


Seeing Through Your Soul

by penumbria



Series: Seeing Through the Soul 'Verse [1]
Category: NCIS, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gay Bashing, Hazing, Homophobia, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Rough Trade, Sexual Violence, Soul Bond, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 54,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where soul mates who have not met see what is happening through the mate's eyes once a year for ten minutes, Jack O'Neill has a problem. His mate is seeing highly classified missions and materials and he can't find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the November 2014 Rough Trade Soul Mates Challenge. Thank you to singer-s-lament for her excellent beta skills. Thanks to Fanarts_series for her awesome cover art.
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.
> 
> A/N: As far as NCIS canon goes, I am ignoring most everything that happened after the beginning of Season 6 (with the exception of Tony's back story from "Baltimore" regarding his first meeting with Gibbs and his partner Danny and fiancee Wendy) and some of Season 6 itself is changed. I am especially ignoring everything about Dinozzo Sr that came out after Robert Wagner was cast in the role (a huge mistake IMO to cast such a loved actor and change the role to fit him). I am basing Tony's childhood off of what was revealed over the first several seasons in his dialogue about certain incidents and extrapolating from them. While this is AU, it also heavily follows canon in both series and I will not re-tell it, so a familiarity with both series will help make sense of events. The time-lines mesh pretty well until about 1996 then just kind of ignore the question: What year is this? The series are happening simultaneously and the age gap between Jack and Tony exists by their original birth dates from canon, before any ret-conning occurred

 

* * *

 

As children everyone learns the mythology. The Platonic explanation that once all humans had two faces, four arms, four legs and one soul. The gods grew fearful of the humans and their power though they did not wish to destroy them for then where would they get tribute. And so instead they cut each in half, creating two beings with one face, two arms, two legs and only half of a soul and humans despaired and cried out in terror and loneliness. And some of the gods felt sorrow and took pity on their worshipers and created a way for them to once again find and connect to the other half of their split soul. But they had to work with other gods who were not as sorrowful but instead scared of the potential held within humans which had led to the original solution. And so, once a year a soul who has reached puberty will see through the eyes of their mate for only ten minutes and only the sight sense engaged. In this manner they can receive clues to help locate their soul's mate.

All children know this story, gaining more knowledge of its truths and fictions the older they grow, the closer to puberty and their own first vision they come. Many people do actually find their mates and live happily but it is not always an easy task. After all, the fearful gods did not want their hard work undone by making it simple for the humans to find the missing halves. And here is a tale of two halves of one soul and their striving to find one another in this lifetime. A tale of two men named Jonathan and Anthony and how they came to meet and bond their halves together into the single soul they once were.

 

* * *

 

Edward O'Neill looked at Jill, his wife of 2 years incredulously. “You want to do what? It's January for crying out loud! I am not going skinny dipping in Minnesota in January, I don't care how private your dad's cabin is.”

Jill laughed. “But it would be fun to warm each other up afterward, Ted,” she chuckled.

He leered at her. “I can warm you up without freezing us to death first, baby.” He reached for her and she giggled and ran towards the bedroom as he chased after her, finally catching up to her and tossing her on the bed, only to follow her down and lay on top of her. The couple began to kiss and soon lost themselves in the moment and being together on their vacation, alone. Their love for one another would create a new life this day, a son, though they would not know of the child for several weeks or its gender for nine months.

* * *

 

“You're doing wonderfully, Mrs O'Neill. I can see the head. Just one more good push and your baby will be here. Just focus and push!” The doctor instructed the expectant mother.

“I'm pushing, already!” Jill's face was damp with sweat and her face tracked with tears following her 9 long hours of labor. She took a deep breath, grunted with the effort and pushed hard and was rewarded with the wail of a baby. She pushed herself up with the little strength she had left and gazed towards the doctor.

“It's a boy! Congratulations Mrs O'Neill, you have a son!” The doctor smiled at her and she gave a wobbly smile back as she fell back on the bed panting. The nurse placed the small wrapped bundle on her chest and Jill smiled more broadly.

“Hello, little one. My little prince. I love you, Jonathan Jay O'Neill.”

 

* * *

 

Jonathan Jay O'Neill, better known to friends and family as Jackie-boy, was laying on his back in a field and staring up at the stars. It was one of his favorite activities. He was only 8 but he knew the names and locations of the major constellations, namely the zodiac, the Orion Family, the Perseus Family and the Ursa Major Family. He was working on learning the Hercules Family next. He loved the stars and the sky, it fascinated him that the same bits of light he was watching from his backyard were the ones that the Ancient Greeks who they were named for saw.

Jackie-boy was a good kid. He listened to his parents (most of the time), was nice to and helped take care of his little sister Ruth as long as she wasn't trying to look at his telescope, got good grades in school without too much effort, and rarely swore in company and hardly ever talked back sass to an adult. He _thought_ a lot of sass that he technically _could_ talk back but he learned at his dad's hard hand and his mum's hard hair brush on his butt to keep his remarks in his head not out of his mouth. He also had discovered quickly enough that he didn't enjoy the taste of soap or castor oil. And when he started school, he found that a ruler across the knuckles hurt just as sharply as his dad's palm on his butt. So, he kept his sass to himself and gained a reputation as a fairly quiet lad.

Jackie enjoyed his time at school. He liked to learn things but to keep himself out of trouble he rarely spoke up there so his grades were fairly high but the teachers did not consider him exceptional. He listened a lot and learned to hear not just what people were saying but what they didn't say. He watched how other kids were treated based on how they behaved and tried to adjust himself to present what he wanted them to see. He was not always entirely successful, especially around his mother and maternal grandfather. They saw through his mask and almost always called him on it.

Jackie loved spending time with his maternal grandfather, Martin MacArthur. His granddad had a cabin in northern Minnesota next to a lake and when Jackie was just a toddler, his family had moved from Chicago to Grand Rapids, a town of about 11,000 people 40 minutes from the cabin and lake. His granddad told him that he was a true Irish boy from two proud Celtic lines and he had to be a true warrior to live up to his heritage.

Granddad had served in World War I and told Jackie stories from his battlefield days. Jackie's mom didn't like these stories but knew it was futile to try to get her father to keep quiet. He had brought her up on many of the same tales but somehow, maybe because she was a female, they didn't have quite the same effect on her. Jackie soaked up the tales of daring and heroism, beating the bad guys and helping their fellow soldiers to keep America safe.

In order to try to offset some of the violence Jackie was exposed to via her father, Jill O'Neill would spend time with her son telling him tales of kindness and love. She often told and was often asked to tell, of her searching and meeting of her husband, the other half of her soul, Edward O'Neill. It wasn't a terribly dramatic story like some soul mate tales were. Nor was it a particularly boring tale where two soul mates grow up across the street from one another, attending the same schools and knowing immediately who the other is with the onset of vision time.

Jill O'Neill nee MacArthur was from a very small town in upper Minnesota. Edward “Ted” O'Neill was from the big city of Chicago. The two mates met ironically in Washington, DC when Jill was there on a mate search and Ted was living there for a while after being released from the Army. She had her vision that year of a man in uniform visiting the Washington Monument and even though she worried and knew it was a long shot, she trusted in God to lead her to her soul mate.

Jill literally stumbled over Ted when getting off of a trolley she was taking to tour the city. She tripped on the bottom step and would have taken a hard fall onto the pavement but instead a gallant man grabbed her and swung her away to the sidewalk. He helped to steady her on her feet and when she raised her eyes to thank him, his eyes met hers and the bond swirled around them.

The story of Jill's search and their meeting was a favored request as a bedtime story and Jackie often said he could not wait until he began having his vision time. Whenever she heard him express these longings, Jill warned her son that not all soul mates had an easy time finding one another. And the only reason Jill and Ted had done so was because she took the initiative to go looking when a vision gave a definitive clue as to a location. Ted was never able to go looking because none of the visions he experienced were enough to give him any kind of location that he could recognize. There were lots of small towns around and without hearing sounds or accents he couldn't pin it down. But the Washington Monument was unmistakeable. Still, it was luck or fate because he could have just been visiting the city that day and not living there.

Also, Jill reminded Jackie that his visions would start when his body started to change as he grew up and many experienced visions for many years before finding a good clue. Jill herself had been getting visions for seven years before she found Ted. He had gotten visions for nine years before that fateful day when his mate tumbled into his arms. So, she warned her son not to worry about growing up too fast. It would come when it was time and when it did, he would learn the good and the bad for himself.

Jackie-boy lay on his back in that field looking at the stars and whispered into their twinkling embrace, “I'll find you, I know it. I know you're looking at these same stars as me and we'll find one another and be happy forever.”

 

 

Jackie-boy O'Neill


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Jack was sitting in math class listening to his seventh grade teacher drone on about fractions and decimals and trying to focus when he started to feel warm, like he was standing in front of a roaring fireplace. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pulled at his collar, unbuttoning the top button of his white shirt. He bit his lip as the sensation increased in intensity. It was decidedly uncomfortable but not painful, more like he was dressed in his heaviest winter clothes and standing in front of a fire that people kept adding logs to in the middle of summer. He gave up on any chance of hearing his teacher and clenched his fists, breathing slowly and shallowly through his mouth. Suddenly, after ten minutes, the sensation ended as abruptly as it had begun and Jack slumped in his seat with a sigh of relief. His gaze returned to his teacher and he saw her glancing at him as she spoke about conversion equations. She caught his eye, smiled lightly and gave a small nod, letting him know he wasn't in trouble for not paying attention without drawing the attention of the entire class to his situation.

Jack greatly appreciated the decency of the tiny red-haired math teacher. She was always a good person and he felt that this just proved he was right in his liking for her. He knew there were other teachers who would have reamed him out and embarrassed him in front of the entire class. Jack always thought they were bitter because they had not found their soul mates. Just last week, Mr Griffin, the history teacher had called out Amanda Terry when he saw her finish going through a bout of heat flashes. He made her come to the front of the class and tell everyone what had happened. She was so overtaken with embarrassment that she ran from the room in tears and spent the rest of the afternoon in the bathroom. She also refused to return to school until yesterday.

Everyone knew what the heat flashes were. They had classes on it once a semester starting in fourth grade, though only one of them had needed it that early and Tommy Franks had been held back twice and should have been in sixth grade. A few more of his grade mates had needed the information in fifth grade and a few more in sixth. Jack wasn't exactly a late bloomer but he wasn't an early bird in this area either. About half of the class had yet to have their heat flashes that occurred in the week leading up to their first visions, though they were told in this semester's soul mate education class that by the end of the school year it was expected that the vast majority of them will have had them.

The time of day you got your heat flashes was consistent for the week and corresponded with the time of day your vision would occur which coincided with the time and day your soul's mate had been conceived. Every year after the first vision, you would have another, but it went sort of by lunar cycles not calendar dates. The scientists could never quite pin it down.

So, Jack knew that he would have ten minute hot flashes from about 1:30 in the afternoon until 1:40 every day for the next week and on the eighth day he would have his first ten minute vision around 1:30 in the afternoon. Amanda had known that would mean being in Mr Griffin's class for each one of hers except the weekend and having to get a note from him to go to the vision room as well. She had not wanted to be put through that humiliation, which Jack could totally understand.

He himself was quite glad not to have to stand up right now since the heat flash was triggered by the onset of puberty and for males it created a very obvious issue in their pants. For girls the issue was a little different though also noticeable depending on what color they happened to be wearing and led to staining of their dresses and red spots on their seats. Thus, Amanda's complete embarrassment when Mr Griffin brought her to the front on the class and pointed out the stain on her dress and the mess on her seat.

Everyone knew Mr Griffin was the worst teacher to have a heat flash in front of. Several of the teachers would maliciously bring attention to it but Mr Griffin was absolutely brutal to anyone having their heat flashes and took delight in humiliating them as much as possible. The rumor around the school was that he could never find his mate and they never came looking for him either, even though he was conceived in summer and went on vacations to places with well-known landmarks that would lead to a location. Jack wasn't sure it was true and couldn't imagine not wanting to find your soul mate. He couldn't wait, one more week and he would have his first clue to finding her. He was so excited.

But now, Jack had a decision to make. Did he want to take the week off of school so he could have his heat flashes and the eventual in private or should he chance coming to school, knowing he would be in Mrs Davis' class during his episodes?

As Jack was pondering these issues the bell rang signaling the end of class. He picked up his books and supplies and walked slowly to the front of the room, making sure that the other students were out the door before he approached Mrs Davis. When he got to her she looked at him from her seat behind the teacher's desk and her lips quirked up slightly at the right side. “Did you need something, Mr O'Neill?”

Jack nodded. “I wanted to thank you for, well, not mentioning what happened to everyone and all. I appreciate it. And I hoped I could talk to you after school today about something.”

She nodded and smiled. “Of course. Just stop by after the final bell. I'll be here until 4:15 or so. Now you better run along to your next class, Jack.”

He nodded and hurried out of the room to the locker room to get changed for gym class mind still running over possible scenarios for the rest of the week.

 

* * *

 

When the last bell of the day rang, Jack hurried out of the classroom, quickly took care of his business at his locker and made his way to Mrs Davis' classroom. He knocked on the closed door which echoed in the swiftly emptying hallways.

“Come in!”

He opened the door and entered the room and the red-haired teacher smiled at him and pointed to a chair next to her desk. “Have a seat and we can talk, Jack.”

He nodded, his blond hair falling into his eyes, having been not really fixed in its normal manner after his shower following gym class. He smiled at one of his favorite teachers, certainly his favorite teacher for this year. She was considered one of the best by the majority of the students and they were all glad she was back after a year's break for maternity leave last semester. Her bright smile and cheerful disposition made learning the math fun.

Mrs Davis looked at Jack expectantly. “What do you need, Jack?”

Jack cleared his throat and began to speak, “You know, um, realized what happened in class today, I know and I am really glad it was you and not Mr Grif – um, someone else who would not have been so, um, discreet. Today was, it was the first time for me and I, well, now I know basically what will happen for the next week and when and I am trying to figure out if I should stay home. I mean, I don't want the class to know or well, I mean, plenty of them have had it happen, a lot of them in school and when you realize someone is going though it in class, you kinda can't help but look, ya know? And I realize now and even then that it is not a good thing but, well, if I come to school ...”

Mrs Davis nodded her head. “I understand your concerns Jack, and I agree that some people do not treat the students who have this totally natural and inevitable process occur very well, naming no names,” she gave him a wry look as the same person flashed through both of their minds. “But, since you now know a basic schedule for this week for the hot flashes, we can make arrangements for you to be excused from class about seven minutes before they start so you can go to the Quiet Room until they pass and then return to class until the bell.”

Jack cocked his head. “Ya think? I mean, well, I thought the Quiet Room was just for visions.”

The petite teacher shook her head. “No. Granted it is used that way the most since hot flashes only occur during the first year that visions happen so everyone just gets them the one time but no the cubicles in the Quiet Room can be used for those having their first time symptoms as well. You just need a note from a teacher to document you will be there for a week, not a day. Also, those who use the QR for their first week have more advanced warning then for the visions in the following years. You understand why that is, right?”

Jack smiled slightly. “Yep. I remember. After the first time, you don't get hot flashes just the tingling and stuff for the half hour before the vision occurs and so that would be all your warning, 30 minutes or less because it doesn't necessarily happen on the same day or time every year. It isn't like Christmas that is always December 25th, it is more like Easter that hops around except not as much so more like Thanksgiving except not based on a certain day of the week and the time is different like sometimes it is leap year or they say at New Year's that they are adding some seconds or minutes because of the calendar and stuff. So, the only real warning is the tingling, whereas first times you have a week of hot flashes at the same time everyday for that week followed by the first vision at that same time as the hot flashes were.” Jack took a breath.

“Well,” Mrs Davis chuckled richly, “You certainly have paid attention in your classes about this, haven't you? You'd be surprised how many of your classmates are confused and need help with it, regardless of how many years of classes they have had leading up to their first week.”

Jack smiled shyly, please with the praise and acknowledgment, though flustered by how he had sounded like a crazy person in his recitation. He was still rattled by the events of the day and their implications for the rest of his week.

“So, do you want to take me up on the offer of the Quiet Room, Jack. We can go put you on the log right now if you want.”

Jack nodded, “Yes, ma'am. Let's do that then.”

As she rose to her feet, she told him, “I'll make sure you get any notes you miss while you are out of the classroom, Jack. But you are responsible for making up any potential pop quizzes or classwork.”

Jack nodded. That was fair.

 

* * *

  

Jack slipped into the Quiet Room and knowing the way things now worked after his week of hot flashes, he slid his pass into one of the cubbyholes on the wall near the door. He chose cubbyhole number 8. Every day that he had come here (except Saturday and Sunday when he wasn't in school and Friday when 8 was already occupied by someone else's slip) Jack had chosen to use cubbyhole number 8. It was his favorite number and area number 8 was in the corner of the Quiet Room.

 The Quiet Room was a large room with fairly high ceilings, more so than the classrooms but not as high as the gymnasium or the auditorium. Jack supposed it was about the same height as the ceiling in the cafeteria. Next to the door leading into the room was a shelving unit filled with cubbyholes, like you might find in a mail room or behind the counter of a hotel that kept room keys for the guests when they went out. Each cubbyhole was numbered from 1 to 40.

 The numbers corresponded to the number on each door in the room. Around the walls of the room were small closet like spaces, forty of them, about six feet from their doors to the back wall and seven and a half feet side to side. They were made of wood, paneled in a deep cherry. The interior walls were painted a light blue, like a beautiful sky on a clear day. Jack found them much nicer and calmer than the rather ugly pea green most of the school was painted.

Inside each closet was a canvas cot and a soft pillow and on the floor in the corner was a large bean bag chair. The doors all had basic slide locks on them and no windows. The floors were covered in soft but carpet, though it was not deep pile, just comfortable.

After the first few days, Jack had decided that he was most at ease sitting on the bean bag chair. He would enter the room, close and latch the door behind him and sit on the chair, slouching so he was almost laying down. He would close his eyes and breathe deeply, almost entering a meditative state as he waited for the heat to hit him. After the flash was over, he would lay for another couple of minutes until he had his body under control and would then leave the closet, reclaim his pass, and leave the room. It had become almost a routine.

But today, day eight, he knew would be different. It all started the same, he claimed his closet by putting his pass in the cubbyhole and entered the little closet-like room, closing and latching the door. He got comfortable on the bean bag chair and closed his eyes against the dim light in the room. But he knew today would be different. Even without the classes, he would have known.

Before he was excused by Mrs Davis from class, his legs and arms had begun tingling. At first it was just odd, a new sensation. But after a few minutes it felt like his limbs had just woken up from being asleep and were now all four experiencing increasingly annoying and kind of painful “pins and needles”. He knew that half an hour after this unpleasantness began, he would have his vision. It was a bit difficult to walk down the hallways to the Quiet Room with his legs aching the way they were but Jack managed.

And now, he lay here in closet number 8, waiting to see his first clue to his soul's mate. He shifted and but his lip trying to get comfortable and suddenly Jack wasn't seeing the now familiar walls to his closet in the Quiet Room, he was in a classroom staring at the back of a girl's head, her blond hair in two long braids at either side of her head. Jack was disconcerted as he wanted to look elsewhere but the eyes did not move. It was a very strange feeling, Jack had not realized it would be so strange not being able to control what he was seeing. About a minute passed and Jack was hoping his mate would soon stop being so fascinated by the hair of the student in front if him. Peripherally, Jack could tell he was in a classroom since there was a desk below him, he could just see the pencil holder and old ink well slot at the top and the top of the back of the chair the blond girl was seated in.

Finally the vision moved and Jack could see the blackboard as his mate shifted their attention to the teacher. The blackboard was filled with writing about the story “White Fang”. The teacher was talking, though of course Jack heard nothing, and walking back and forth at the front of the class. The teacher was a woman, in her forties, maybe, Jack thought. She was wearing a long dress that flowed with her movement, covered in light blue and pink flowers against a dark brown background. The eyes followed her as she walked, giving Jack a view of most of the front of the classroom. His mate was evidently seated near the middle of the room, as Jack could see four desks in front of his mate's row and two desks to either side, so five rows total. Jack tried to gather and remember as much as he could from this vision as suddenly just as the eyes were turning towards the door to the room, Jack was again seeing the familiar walls of the closet.

Jack slumped backwards on the bean bag, laying nearly flat, his khaki pants brushing the floor below the bean bag. He felt drained and distantly noted the lack of pain from his limbs that had been bothering him until the vision had begun. As Jack lay, staring at the ceiling his breathing slowed as he tried to gather his thoughts.

His first thoughts were about the weirdness of the whole experience.  _Holy Toledo_ ,  _that was so weird_ , Jack thought. The entire vision experience was new, obviously but he thought he was prepared. After all of the classes and stories, he thought he would handle it better but he was still shaking and his eyes were unconsciously darting around as though to make up for the ten minute lack of control over his sight.

Jack tried to piece things together, logically.  _Okay, first off, my mate doesn't go to this school. I didn't recognize that teacher at all and the walls were a sort of nice shade of light brown, like beige but darker, I think. So, no next door neighbor mate. Second, my mate is my age. That story on the board, “White Fang” is from the seventh grade reader and my class just finished it two weeks ago. Third, my mate is not in a really small town. That was no one room schoolhouse and all of the kids I saw looked to be around the same age not spread out so wherever they live has enough students to fill at least one school. And that classroom had at least thirty desks, more if my mate was seated in the middle, I only saw one row behind but they didn't turn around so it was only peripherally. Of course, it is possible that it is a regional school that takes students from a lot of small towns. But I somehow don't get that feeling. It feels almost positive. I think I saw something that confirmed it for me but I don't know what! I can't remember. I couldn't really see out the window, just out of the corner of the eye and it just looked like some trees or green, so that is no help. I don't know why I am so sure she isn't in a small regional school, what I picked up on that I can't recall or verbalize. Oh, well, I guess I don't get an easy find. Hopefully next year I'll get more clues as to location – or even name on a school assignment or something._

Jack sighed as he levered himself up and left the closet to return to his normal life.

 

Jack O'Neill as a teen

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Jack's life continued on as normal and he finished his seventh grade year near the top of his class but not in number one. He joked around with his friends, helped babysit his little sister, played street hockey when he had time, fished with his grandfather and got his mom and dad to tell him more soul mate stories. He often talked his vision over with his mother, raving about how beautiful he imagined his mate was, how he pictured her in his head even though his vision had given him absolutely no clues to go on other than age. He never recognized his mother's odd looks when he painted a picture of a fairy tale princess like figure. Or the bit lip when he waxed lyrical about the long hair he was sure his mate possessed. Or the shaken head when he nearly wrote poetry to the graceful hands he pictured on his delicate mate.

Around a year passed this way and as the anniversary approached, Jack began to get antsy, hoping he would get good clues to find her, his other half, his perfect soul mate. The one year anniversary passed by but Jack didn't worry, knowing that it wasn't exact like Christmas but more like Easter. Finally, he was sitting in the cafeteria one day when he felt his limbs begin that tingle and burn that he so recalled from the year before. He told his friends he had to go and grabbed his stuff, heading for the office to get a pass to the Quiet Room. He knew he only had 30 minutes from when the tingling began before the vision hit and he did  _not_ want it to happen before he was safe in the closet room, ready and as relaxed as he could be. He had seen kids who left it too long and were found staring blankly in the hallway or courtyard or on a sidewalk. They were teased mercilessly after for being so stupid as to be caught unawares. That was  _not_ going to be him.

Jack got a pass from the school secretary who easily recognized the symptoms of Jack's shifting weight and unconscious rubbing of his arms. With a small smile, the brunette signed his slip and Jack left the office, headed to the nearby room. When he arrived he was pleased that his preferred closet was available and quickly claimed it and slid inside, knowing he had used up a good portion of his warning time on getting from the cafeteria after throwing his lunch away and making his excuses, then getting the pass. He thought he had about seven minutes but wasn't positive.

He was wrong, Jack barely got his butt in the bean bag chair when he was seeing through another's eyes. The eyes were looking into a locker and rummaging around for a towel and soap, Jack saw as the hands grabbed them and shut the locker door. As his mate turned, Jack went into shock. He wasn't getting a glimpse of a girl's locker room, there were no girls there. His mate was headed to a shower surrounded by boys! The eyes weren't looking at the others particularly but they weren't avoiding seeing anything either. Then the vision changed to a tiled room with shower heads and drains in the floor. And the water began obscuring the eyesight as the eyes closed to avoid the spray. Finally, the head tilted down and Jack saw indisputable proof that his mate was not in some weird school where boys and girls shared a locker room and showered together (not that Jack had ever heard o f such a thing but geez that was the hope). The hands attached to the body that was seeing the vision began soaping and cleaning that indisputable proof at the juncture of his mate's thighs, that proof that the doctor used to announce to a new mother, “It's a boy!” His mate – his other half – was washing his own penis! Jack wanted to close his eyes but obviously couldn't. His mate didn't linger over the process, obviously hurrying through the shower to get to the next class. Plus, he was surrounded by other boys and it would have been weird to linger or do anything other than shower. Jack saw his mate finish up the shower and turn off the water, grabbing his towel and beginning to dry off when suddenly Jack regained control of his own body and it fell backwards onto his bean bag, hard.

Jack bit his lip, his eyes filling with tears. This was not something he had ever thought of. This wasn't in any of the stories his mother told him. He didn't know any guy with another guy as his soul mate! This wasn't fair! He was a freak. There was something wrong with him. The classes he had taken for years never even mentioned in passing this as a possibility. He laughed bitterly to himself, thinking back over the last year and his pretty little fairy tales about his soul mate. His mom was going to hate him. He was never going to have a family. He was a freak. There was something wrong with him. He lay there for another ten minutes, spiraling further and further into depression over his unexpected news.

Jack knew he should get up and go to his next class, having heard the bell signaling the end of lunch ring a few minutes ago but he just didn't think he could face it. Jack felt nauseous and was shaking. He couldn't focus on anything other than the crashing of the dreams he had harbored since he had first understood the stories about soul mates that had only been enhanced since he had finally experienced his first vision the year before. Finally, after nearly half an hour after his vision ended, Jack was able to get himself to his feet and left the closet. He knew he wouldn't be able to finish the day, he still felt sick and his legs didn't want to hold him up. He walked down the hall back to the office and the secretary took one look at him and told him to have a seat before calling his mother to pick him up and sign him out as sick for the rest of the day.

Jack sat slumped on the bench that ran the length of one wall of the office. Usually used by the trouble makers or suck ups who were waiting to meet with the principal, in was empty right now but for the troubled and ill 13-year-old blond boy. He was still trembling and his hands were involuntarily rubbing circles on his legs. His mind, too, was running in circles. He just kept seeing those hands washing the proof that he was a freak. His mind was stuck on the fact that things he had only heard of in whispers and dirty jokes spread by other boys in private were going to be his future. He had heard of men being together for sex. He just always thought it was perverts or something. He didn't know how perverts could be soul mates. It was so wrong. But Jack's soul mate was a boy. So Jack was going to be one of those perverts that the other boys whispered about in the locker room, someone vile and evil.

Jack fought back tears, wishing he could be normal, that his soul mate was a girl like everyone else. That he wasn't warped. He knew his mom was going to hate him, his grandad would disown him, his dad would probably throw him out so he didn't infect his little sister. Jack's breathing quickened and he began to hyperventilate just as his mom walked into the office. She rushed over and took his face between her hands and began murmuring to him to calm down, to breathe slower, to follow her breaths, in and out, and slowly Jack gained control of himself as he looked into the beloved eyes of his mother.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack lay on his back on his bed, mind dwelling on his vision. His mom had helped him home and was making him hot chocolate with real whipped cream. Jack was terrified to talk to her, he knew she would keep nagging him until he told her what was wrong and when he finally did – Jack just wanted it to be over, he wanted to go back to before his vision, when he thought his soul mate was a beautiful girl with long blond hair and a light giggle, not a boy with short hair and a penis!

Jack bit his lip, trying to keep the tears in his eyes from falling down his face but unable to fully stop the flow. He wondered how long it would be until people knew how freakish and wrong he was. How long until this was no longer his bed. When they tossed him out, where could he go? What would he do? He only had about three dollars saved up, that wouldn't last long. What if his parents wouldn't even let him take any clothes with him or a coat or anything. How was he going to survive?

That thought stalled in his head. How was he going to survive? Maybe, maybe he wouldn't, maybe he shouldn't survive. If he didn't survive he wouldn't have to face being born evil and corrupt. He wouldn't have to be a pervert. He could just end his life, walk into the woods and just lay down under a tree and let the cold take him, falling asleep and just not waking up. His parents could tell everyone that he had gotten lost and it would all be a tragic accident and no one would have to know that he had tainted his family this way. Jack bit through his lip. He didn't want to die but he had to protect his family. And they wouldn't want him now anyway.

Jack sat up carefully and nodded to himself. He would slip away tonight if he wasn't thrown out beforehand. If he was, it would just speed up the timetable. He would protect his family from the evil that he was born with. He would just hope that he hadn't already infected his sister somehow.

As Jack stared resolutely at the wooden floor next to his bed, his mom came in bearing the mug filled with the nectar of the gods – hot chocolate with real whipped cream. She came over and sat on the bed, brushing his hair off of his forehead where it clung with the sweat that had coated his body.

She handed him the mug, “Drink up, Jackie-boy. You need the sugar. It'll make you feel better.”

Jack held the mug and stared at the white cream as it floated on the beverage. He made no move to bring the cup to his mouth until his mother put her hand on his and raised it herself. The whipped cream coated the tip of his nose and the lip of the mug pushed against his lips. He sighed and opened his mouth for a drink, the warm liquid sliding easily down his throat and the sugar coating his tongue with its sweetness.

His mother watched him until he finished the mug and handed it back to her, after which she wiped his nose and mouth with a napkin as if he was 3 and not 13. “Alright, Jackie-boy, time to talk. I know something's wrong. I have an idea that is has something to do with your soul's mate. I know this is the time of year you have your visions. So, I want you to tell me what you saw that has upset you so badly, Jackie. I'm here. Let me help.”

Jack shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “You won't want to be here. You shouldn't be here. There's something wrong with me. I'm wrong.”

Jill slid from the bed to her knees beside it and forced her son to look her in the eye. “You are not  _wrong_ Jack. There is nothing you can tell me that will chase me away. You are  _my son_ and I love you. I always have from the first moment I knew you were on your way and I always will. Now, tell me the problem, Jack. What did you see?”

Jack sniffled, his eyes drifting closed, unable to maintain eye conduct with the beloved figure before him. “I – I'm a pervert, mom. My soul's mate – I'm wrong and perverted and evil and twisted and -”

“Jack!”

“My soul's mate was in the locker room taking a shower and they were washing their – they had a – they're a boy! My soul's mate is a boy. I'm corrupted and evil.”

Jill shook her son's shoulders lightly. “You are not evil, Jack. You are not corrupt or wrong or twisted and you certainly aren't a  _pervert_ . What you are is a confused young man living in a dinky little town in a backwards state. Sometimes, I think it would have been better if we had stayed in Chicago and not moved here to be near your grandad. Chicago's not New York but it is so much better than this little town.”

Jill got back to her feet and sat on the bed, pulling Jack into her arms. “I know this is confusing but it actually is not unusual. Having a mate who is the same sex as you is not even close to being unheard of. I don't know the exact figures Jack, and living here where there is so much prejudice I doubt you'll be able to find them but I know it is over 15 percent worldwide. Maybe even higher. And it is not just boys that have other boys as their mates. Girls have other girls, too. Unfortunately, there is a lot of prejudice and bigotry around it. A long time ago people were shunned if they bonded with a same sex mate because they couldn't have children then. And a lot of people still feel that is a problem. Other people consider it a sin because of a story in the Old Testament.”

“Sodom and Gomorrah?” interjected Jack.

“That's right. A lot of people believe that those cities were destroyed by God because the men were all having sex with each other. But there is a lot of room for misunderstanding in that story. The words and how they are translated and the meaning behind them when they were written make it hard to comprehend as the original people would have. The story has the men of the city wanting to know the strangers and Lot offers his virgin daughters instead. Lot is trying to save the men, who are angels in disguise from a gang of men not just wanting to have sex with them, maybe, but from men wanting to force them to have sex. That is evil and wrong. Frankly, Lot's offer to them is just as bad in my opinion. And the story also talks about the men going after strange flesh, seeming to mean again about sex and a lot of bigots say that means same sex relationships but I know a scholar who told me it actually meant something a lot different. It meant they were having improper relationships with animals. So, people who are against it, use their interpretation of that story to say it is a sin. But it isn't. There have been a lot of same sex mate pairs through history, Jack. And they have done wonderful things.”

Jack tilted his head as it rested on her shoulder. His arms wrapping loosely around her. “Like who?”

“Well, to go back to the Bible, David and Jonathan, son of King Saul. The Bible even says their souls were knit. And the explorers Lewis and Clark were mates. And some people are sure that President Lincoln had a male mate named Joshua. Even in literature there are examples. You love reading Sherlock Holmes. Well, Holmes and Watson were mates, it was clear in the earlier works until Doyle gave in to pressure and had Watson marry. So, there you go. Those are just ones I can think of off the top of my head. But it isn't wrong!”

Jack sighed.

Jill continued, “One of your teachers has a male mate and unfortunately it is a bad story. He and his mate have met and the bond occurred but his mate refused him because of prejudice so he has become very bitter. That is something you will have to accept. A lot of people have issues of different kinds with this natural process. But it happens. And you have to prepare yourself, Jack. You may end up with a wonderful mate who loves you or they may reject you if they are bigoted or scared. But you have to believe in yourself, Jack. You can't be afraid of who you are. There is nothing wrong with who you are. But, for your own sake, for your sanity's sake, especially where we live, keep this information in the family. There are a lot of prejudiced people around and you can't just give them ammunition.”

Jack nodded. “I understand. I'll only tell you.”

Jill sighed deeply. “You can tell your dad, Jack. He knew several same sex mated pairs when he was growing up. And you can tell your grandad. He has some stories he can tell you about a particular pair he knew. I bet you already know the stories, in fact. Just not the fact that those two men were mates. He loves telling those stories because those two men were so very brave. You can even tell your sister when she is a little older and having her own visions and can understand why it is private information.”

Jack considered this. “Okay, you can tell dad and grandad.”

Jill smiled. “Okay. I'll tell them but when they want to talk to you about it, no avoiding it, understood?”

Jill got to her feet and ruffled his hair. “Mom?”

“Hmmm?”

“How did you have all of this information in your head?”

“Well, you know I like to be prepared and when you first vision didn't give a definitive clue one way or another, I thought it best to be ready this year. I worried when you talked about seeing peripherally and not mentioning long hair in your view. Granted, it could have been in a long braid down the back but I thought there was no harm, just in case.”

Jack stood up and hugged her. “Thanks mom.”

 

Jack O'Neill as a teen

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Jack lay back on the cot in the closet of the high school Quiet Room, wrapped in a blanket, the chill of the February morning permeating the building even with the boiler working at full speed. He was prepared to receive his seventh vision and his long limbs had quickly outgrown the comfort of the bean bag chairs.

Over the past six years since he had learned that his mate was another male, Jack had adapted his mind to the idea. He accepted that the body his mate inhabited was unimportant. This was the other half of his soul. He had heard many stories about same sex mates that had wonderful lives from his grandad before his death three years before. And his mother was always leaving books she had found and clipping magazine articles about soul mates and searches. His father had shown his support of Jack by taking him on a week long trip to Chicago when he was 15. They had spent many of the days in various libraries and bookstores doing research on the same sex mate bond.

And Jack had discovered that his mother had gotten it somewhat wrong about his teacher. Mr Griffin did indeed have a male mate who rejected him. But because mates could not bear to be apart forever and once bonded could not be intimate with another, his mate had killed himself rather than live in a same sex bonded relationship, leaving Mr Griffin to be alone for the rest of his life, unable to be intimate with anyone else yet without a soul mate. Jack still found the man to be hateful but he pitied him, as well.

Although no one outside of his family knew about Jack's mate, in was 1970 and he still lived in a small Midwestern town where bigoted attitudes prevailed, so Jack had learned to ignore the locker room talk about homosexual relationships and jokes about male on male sex. He never participated and would just roll his eyes at the speaker as if they were intensely juvenile. Interestingly, to Jack, a few of the worst offenders suddenly stopped their joking and snide comments after trips to the Quiet Room. He assumed they had discovered that they themselves had same sex mates and couldn't bring themselves to be assholes anymore, at least not about that subject.

Jack's visions over the years had never been terribly informative about where his mate was located. The most information he had gotten was that vision of his mate in the shower. Once he had stopped freaking out, Jack had come to the realization that his mate had dark hair, based on the patch that was at his groin. His mate was athletic, Jack knew that. He had seen him playing basketball and ice hockey during different visions. He lived somewhere that had winters, not like Florida, since he had seen somewhat deep snow in many of the visions outside nearby windows. Jack had never seen a vision of his mate that was not inside a building, usually a school, the gym, the locker room, once an ice rink, several class rooms, a cafeteria. He was always hoping that a vision would occur that would be out on a main street where he could see a skyline or street signs or store signs but so far he had not had any luck.

But Jack held out hope for this year's vision or next year's at the latest. His first vision seemed to point to the fact that he and his mate were approximately the same age, or at least in the same grade, with his mate reaching puberty before him. And no vision since had contradicted that first impression. Which meant that his mate would be graduating high school this year like Jack himself or possibly graduating next year if they had gotten held back at some point after that first vision. So, if they were, then within the next few years, his mate would be in a different place, college or out on his own somewhere.

Jack himself was going to be attending the Air Force Academy in Colorado. He wanted to fly but more than that, Jack still loved the stars and especially since the Apollo program had begun, Jack wanted to be an astronaut. He wanted to go to space. He had never lost his fascination with the stars and watching the moon landing on television the year before had only increased his fascination.

Jack mused on his future as he lay on the cot, his long legs stretched out before him, his hands behind his head, fingers clenching in his blond hair as he rode out the painful tingles that signaled a coming vision. And suddenly, Jack could no longer see the room he was in, just as always. But Jack did not see a normal vision this year. He found himself in the middle of a storm only he was floating there in the clouds, as dark gray and black swirled around him, obscuring his eyes for moments and then retreating. They looked like clouds but not any clouds that he could recognize, not like any storm he had ever seen. But that was the impression they gave him. For ten minutes Jack floated among this dark colors, confused and worried, until at last he once again saw the ceiling above his head.

Jack sat up, trying to make sense of the experience. He knew it was familiar somehow but he couldn't bring to mind where he knew it from. And he needed to know. He was freaking out about the difference.

Once Jack calmed himself, at least outwardly, he left the Quiet Room and made his way to the library, grateful this was his study hall period. He made his way to the alcove in the stacks where the books about soul mates were located. Of course, Jack knew that this collection was very focused, with nothing in it about mate-ships other than heterosexual ones. But Jack needed to try. He went to the Encyclopedia of Soul Mates and Bonding, volume index, published 1943. He looked up visions and scanned down the list until he saw Odd Colors as a heading. The entry sent him to Volume 8, page 279.

Jack read:

_Sometimes souls have reported seeing odd colors swirling around them rather than a normal vision. Most often, the first time and occasionally the second time they report a vision like this, the colors are dark, grays and blacks. Many have likened them to storm clouds. This is a signal to the soul that their mate has died before meeting. There are no eyes to see through and so the soul sees the clue from God that their mate is dead._

_Generally, after a maximum of two years, the dark colors will be replaced by visions of brighter rainbow colors,_ _purples and blues and bright reds and yellows and bright greens and oranges. This is the signal that the mate has been re-born and these colorful visions will continue until the mate once again reaches the age of puberty and begins their own visions._

_This is the phenomenon that leads to the mate-ships that have large age gaps. As everyone knows, most mates are within three years of one another in age unless one has died. The largest gap ever recorded is 45 years, when two mates never met and one died when they were 43 years old. Even though the age gap was considerable, when these mates did meet and bond, they lived together happily for over thirty years until the older mate died._

Jack carefully closed the volume and slid it back onto the shelf, in shock. “ _This is a signal to the soul that their mate has died before meeting. This is a signal to the soul that their mate has died before meeting. Their mate has died before meeting. Died before meeting. Their mate has died. Died._ ”

Jack closed his eyes in grief. His mate was dead and waiting to be re-born. He would be at least 18 years older than his mate now, probably more. He wouldn't have a clue about meeting them for at least 10 years or more after the visions became rainbows and they hit puberty. He would never know how his mate died. If they met now, his mate would not remember the previous life. Had his mate been sick? Was there an accident? Or had he possibly killed himself upon discovering Jack's gender, as he himself had once thought about when as a boy of 12 he discovered he was gay? Jack would never know and he had to resign himself to that fact.

He knew that tonight at home would be difficult. His family knew, just as he did, approximately (within a few weeks) when his visions would occur. He would have to tell them about his mate's death. And take in their sorrow for him while dealing with his own. For now, he would have to focus on his own life, his goals, there would no vacations filled with searching, not for a few decades. Jack had no desire to find a teen aged mate when he would be himself in his thirties. He was no pedophile. He would wait until his mate was twenty or so before doing anything.

And he didn't even know his own identity now. For the past six years he had taken it as a given that he was gay. His mate was a boy. Jack was a boy. Boy plus boy equaled homosexual. But now, his mate could be re-born as a boy again or his mate could be re-born as a girl this time. And Jack wouldn't have any clue about which it was until his regular visions began again in a decade or more.

 

                         

   Vision when mate is under the age of puberty                                                        Vision when mate is dead                     


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Jack sat slumped in a chair in his quarters in the BOQ. He was again thinking about his soul's mate and had just finished going through another rainbow swirly vision thingy. He hated them. They just reminded him that his soul mate was still a child while Jack himself had served in wars and killed people. The Air Force had let him see the world but there was no way he would be an astronaut. He could fly planes and jets but they had shunted him into Special Ops shortly after his graduation from the Air Force Academy when he had received the Award for Academic Excellence.

His time in the air over Vietnam and in the jungles of Cambodia and Laos, not to mention his missions since the end of the war in Eastern Europe, made him realize that he would never be able to connect with his mate on some levels. His mate was born after the moon landing, they had always lived a world where man had walked on the moon. His mate was a child during the height of the Vietnam War, they were still a child _now_ , though Jack was more than fully grown.

It bothered Jack. He wanted a family, increasingly so as each mission came close to killing him and often did kill others, whether at his hand or those standing next to his body. Yet even if his mate was female now that they were re-born, Jack would be 40 when they were old enough to have a child without making Jack feel like a pedophile. And that was assuming he could find her, if it was a her. If it was a male again, there were still the same issues of age and added the issues of surrogacy or adoption. Jack would be in his fifties before any kid of his was a teen! That wasn't what Jack wanted.

On his last trip home for leave, Jack's mother had told him about a new kind of company that was being formed, matchmakers using computers to match those who had same sex mates they had yet to meet (or didn't want to meet) but still wanted a family. They matched men with women who would be able to form relationships and have children and get married with the proviso that if they met their mate there would be a no-fault divorce with shared custody of any children. These were also the agencies that provided surrogates for same sex mate-ships that wanted biological children. And his mother told him that they also connected those who had lost their mates after meeting with others in the same predicament. They used questionnaires to match similar people who had this issue and wanted companionship without anyone expecting sex.

Jack had smiled and nodded at her and she had eventually dropped the issue but when he had returned from his latest mission ten days ago there had been six letters from his mother waiting. In each letter she had included a magazine article about these companies (the idea for which was evidently spreading worldwide as one article spoke of companies in England, France, Denmark, Norway, Switzerland, Italy, Canada, Japan, and Australia as well as the United States) or a brochure from one of the three that had offices near Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, New Mexico where he was stationed.

And after his last FUBAR of a mission where he lost two of his men and suffered a gun shot wound to the arm himself, Jack was open to the idea. He wanted a family, children to pass his granddad's stories on to, a boy to play ball with, a little girl to sit through tea parties with. Jack wanted what he grew up with before he was too old to enjoy it, assuming he even made it to old age. He knew it wouldn't be exactly what he was craving, he knew that his soul was crying out for its mate not some random woman a computer would set him up with, but it was better than what he had now. He would have someone to come home to, someone to hold when the nightmares of fallen friends and slaughtered enemies rose in his mind, someone to just be with when his body craved the touch of human hands that were not his own.

Jack was still off duty on medical leave for four more days, his arm was nearly healed enough to return to light duty and wasn't hurting so much that he craved sleep to escape it and he had resolved that he was going to one of the companies from the brochures his mother had sent. He figured it was worth a shot. Worst case scenario, he had some dates and was no worse off than now, best case, he met someone that he clicked with and they got married and had the family they both wanted.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack walked around his dining room table, laying out the good plates, silverware, and napkins. As he lit the candles in the middle of the table, he mused on the last eight months. After deciding to check out the matchmaking company, Jack moved into an off base apartment, to get ready for a potential marriage and the dates that would lead to it. He knew he would be dating likely several women and wanted a place of his own to bring them. It was a cheap but fairly nice two bedroom place in a small complex three miles from the base. A lot of the tenants were men and women who worked on the base, most military but some civilians and a number had spouses as well, so if the matchmaking worked, Jack's wife would have a support system nearby. This was a main selling point for Jack because when he was on a mission he could sometimes be gone for weeks at a time.

The matchmaking company had taken his paperwork and profile and guaranteed he would have his first matches within two days and they had not lied. Jack viewed the profiles of his first two matches and decided to contact them and set up dates. Not wanting to seem too desperate or pathetic, Jack set up the dates for the following weekend, rather than before he went back on limited duty.

The first date was an absolute disaster, the woman was grating and incredibly opinionated and only wanted to find a man so she could have a child that she and her mate could raise together. She wanted a man who didn't want to have anything to do with the kid after its birth. Jack suggested she go to a bar and have some one night stands because paying the matchmaking agency wasn't very bright since men who wanted _families_ were those who were going there, not assholes who just wanted sex with no strings. The date went downhill from there.

The second date wasn't much better and seriously made Jack doubt the validity of the questionnaires that the company used. The woman was rabidly anti-military and anti-government and proudly told him that she spent many weekends picketing the nearby military base. When Jack told her he worked at that base and was an officer in the air force, she began yelling that he was a baby killer and a thug and got tossed out of the restaurant.

Jack returned to the matchmaking company later that week with complaints and was given two more matches that worked slightly better than the first two, in that they lasted until the date was officially over but they really had nothing in common and no spark. Jack gave up on that company after that and moved on to the second brochure his mom had sent him. This one used a more extensive questionnaire and took video depositions and had each client meet one-on-one with one of their workers, who they called counselors. Jack later discovered that each counselor actually had a bachelor's degree in a psychology field. It impressed him and gave him hope that this time it might work out. He went to receive his first matches and was given the basic profile of five women and taken to a room to watch five minute sections from their videos. He was told to number each woman from 1 to 5 based on his feelings after reading the papers and seeing the videos, with 1 being the most attractive (not necessarily physically) and 5 being the least. His rankings would be compared to the ladies' and he would then be put in touch with the most compatible of the five. And if that one did not work out they would make their way down the list.

All of the women seemed fairly normal and threw up no red flags in Jack's mind but some of the answers on the paper turned him off, not as bad as Ms I-want-sperm-but-you-don't-get-a-kid or Ms military-is-evil-and-anarchy-is-good, but still he was just uncomfortable, so they were lower numbers.

One of the videos really caught his attention. The woman had short blond hair and spoke about her longing for a family and companionship because she knew she would not meet her mate for years since they had died when she was thirteen and were not re-born until she was fifteen. Jack empathized with her. He immediately placed her at number one and filled in the others and returned the files to his counselor.

Three days later, Jack was contacted with the information for the woman whom he ranked first and was told that he was ranked first on her list as well. Jack had nodded, he had felt they had a lot in common. They met at a nearby restaurant and had a wonderful first date. Sara Dalton was a sweetheart and yet she was tough, too. She was a civilian but actually worked on planes at the nearby civilian airfield. Sara loved hiking and fishing and often went camping with her father, Mike, who lived in Colorado. Within three months, Jack was falling hard for the petite blond woman and she certainly seemed to be doing the same in reverse. Just because they were not mates did not mean they couldn't love one another.

All of this led to tonight's date. Sara was coming over for an intimate private dinner which Jack had picked up from a local restaurant which provided carryout meals that were better than simple sandwiches or pizza. Jack, knowing Sara's tastes by now, had ordered chicken parmigiana served over linguine with a side of garlic bread and a dark chocolate tart for dessert.

Jack was dressed in his best non-Air Force clothes, a dark blue double breasted suit, with a white dress shirt and lightly striped blue and silver tie. Jack was nervous. Tonight would change his life if it went the way he hoped. His hand slid into his pocket and caressed the ring box that sat there. The diamond inside was understated but cut beautifully. It was cushion cut and set in polished silver and did not stick out of the setting. Jack hoped Sara would agree to marry him and start a family that they could enjoy and then expand when each of their mates were old enough to be searched for. He straightened the chairs and took a deep breath as the door bell rang.

 

 

    

                                                    Sara soon-to-be O'Neill                                               Sara's engagement ring


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.
> 
> Thank you to all who are reading and enjoying my story. And thanks to singer-s-lament for the beta help.

Jack hefted the suitcases onto the bed and slid the zippers open, removing the dirty clothes from both and placing them in the laundry baskets at his feet. There was ten days worth of dirty wash to do, coated in sweat and dirt and water marks and some of it in even more interesting stains. Who knew Niagara Falls could be so hot? Then again, it was a premiere honeymoon destination for decades for a reason, Jack supposed. And he agreed with that. It had been a great honeymoon, lots of sightseeing and lots of  _sight_ seeing. 

Now they were back for the first night in the apartment together as Mr and Mrs O'Neill and Jack was going to do the laundry, or at least get it separated and ready to go while Sara had gone out grocery shopping, the cupboards being pretty bare having been emptied of perishables before the planned ten days away.

As Jack put the last of the clothes in the baskets, he cursed. He had bent over to grab the basket to take it to the laundry alcove when his hands started tingling in a too familiar way. Jack pushed aside the increasing discomfort of his extremities and lugged the two baskets to their appropriate place, returned to the bedroom, closed the suitcase, placed them in the closet on the top shelf and only then proceeded to the bed, toeing off his shoes and laying back, his head on the pillow and his hands behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles and his body as relaxed as he could make it as he prepared for the ten minute psychedelic light show that he had experienced every year for the past twelve years, glad it had waited until he was at home and that Sara was out. Granted, she knew he wasn't her mate, that had been the point behind the matchmaking agency after all but still visions were private even when they were just rainbow colored clouds.

Just as he mused on this, Jack was no longer seeing his bedroom ceiling. But neither was he seeing the floating pink and purple and read and blue and green and yellow clouds that had been his companions for so long. Instead, Jack seemed to be on a football field. He was seeing through a helmet as he ran down a field and pivoted, arms raised to catch the ball, before pivoting back and heading towards the end zone before being tackled several dozen yards from it. Jack watched as he was helped to his feet by someone else wearing a uniform that read Eagles across the chest. When they lined up for the next play, Jack saw that the opposing team was the Lions. As they ran the next play, Jack's mate fell back and scrambled to the side, providing a block for the quarterback and again took a hard hit. As his mate was standing again, the vision ended and Jack was looking at his own bedroom ceiling once more.

Jack sat up shakily. If he had thought about it, he would have realized he would be seeing actual visions of his mate once more soon. After all most children reach puberty between age 10 and 14. Jack had had twelve visions of colorful clouds following the one black and gray vision. That meant his mate was at least 13 years old now. And Jack was 33.  _Yep, that just solidifies my decision to marry Sara. My mate is only a teenager, plus he's a boy again, so if I want a family, now is the time. Well, at least I'm not freaking out about being gay this time around. I just don't care about the package. That boy is my soul's mate. I'll try to remember as much as I can and when my mate is old enough and my own kids are old enough to understand, I'll go on hunt then._

With this resolve in mind, Jack went to his desk and took out a blank notebook and pen and wrote down what he knew. He noted his mate's age and that day's date, so he had the conception time line. Then he noted what he recalled from the vision – football, running back, the Eagles (his mate's team) playing the Lions, fall colored leaves on trees in the distance, a grass football field rather than indoor or AstroTurf. Jack tried hard but couldn't recall his mate looking at the stands. When he had made a note of everything he could remember, Jack capped the pen and closed the notebook, placing it in the safe in the back of his closet.

Jack then returned to his laundry task as Sara would return soon and he would put the groceries away while she started the wash and he didn't want to talk about his vision. He wasn't going to keep it a total secret but visions  _were_ private things and he would mention in a few days that he had had his first true vision of his re-born mate. She would understand. She was in the same situation, after all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jack sat on his son's bed, a bottle of Jack Daniel's in his left hand, his handgun in his right hand. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and chugged, then would stare at the gun before repeating the process. His wife was at her father's house, Jack just couldn't talk to her about this. He had killed his son, his family. Charlie was dead because he hadn't been taught enough about the danger of guns and Jack had carelessly left his where his child could find it. Every time Jack closed his eyes, he saw Charlie with a hole in his head, his blood and brains leaking out. Bile rose in his throat so Jack raised the bottle to swallow it back down. After almost forty minutes, the bottle was empty and Jack was swaying where he sat, staring at the bloodstain on the carpet at his feet, his son's blood. Jack raised the gun and turned it towards himself, readying to put it in his mouth when he passed out, his limbs shaking with the pain that precedes a vision. It came, bombarding the grieving man in his unconscious state, the pain of his limbs and the vision itself not enough to rouse him from his drunken stupor. Not even the call of his soul's mate could cut through the depth of his grief and despair.

Hours later he would wake, not knowing that his vision had occurred, not even thinking about the fact that it was soon due or that he had not had one that he recalled this year. Instead he again stared at his gun, trying to gain the nerve to use it on himself to end his pain, to release the burden of this life from his mind and soul. He had nearly reached that point when there was a pounding on the door and his life was forever changed by being recalled to the Air Force and a trip to Cheyenne Mountain.

 

 

Jack and Charlie O'Neill


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Colonel Jack O'Neill walked over to his team mates as they took apart the DHD and tried to figure out how to get them home when the orange bulb thing was smashed to pieces. There really had to be a better way to check and see if the DHD was operational _before_ they went through the gate. It was all well and good for the MALP to show the existence of a DHD but if it is not facing the camera, they really need to get a look at the whole thing before sending teams through. He made a mental note to talk to General Hammond about adding this to the to-do list for recons. There were some teams that would have no idea what to do in this situation, not every gate team had a Carter after all. He was just lucky that way. But he couldn't blame them for not thinking about it. At least MALPs _were_ sent before humans. Everyone was still figuring out how this Stargate travel worked, they hadn't exactly been doing this for decades, the man they had met here not withstanding.

Fifty years, alone on a deserted planet with no human contact for  _fifty years_ . Jack himself could barely stand his own company for more than a single night. He knew he would have found a way to end it long ago, but he knew that was one of his weaknesses. He hated to be alone with his thoughts with no time for anything but introspection. Without something to distract himself, his bright mind flowed down ever darkening pathways of memories which shifted to endless what-ifs. It always ended with him being more manic than normal once he was once again around others as if to offset his solitary depression. Jack knew it was borderline unhealthy but it was his way of dealing with stress. And as a plus his manic behavior drove Carter and Daniel nuts right along with him.

Jack wondered what would have happened to Ernest if the DHD had been intact when he arrived through the wormhole. Would he have been able to figure out the symbols on the device to find his way home or even to another destination? What would have happened if Ernest had returned to Earth fifty years ago? They would have most likely been going through the gate for decades.  _Or,_ he mused pessimistically,  _we would all be enslaved to Ra or Apophis or some other snake head._

Jack watched Carter and Teal'c for a few more minutes as his mind wandered down the path of least resistance, thinking about the focus of the United States during the Cold War shifting to outer space and away from home and thereby losing to the Soviets and without more than the very basic of computers, the technology would have been so far ahead it would be like showing a cave man a cell phone and having him try to figure out how to use it. No, it would have been a disaster for the gate to start working so soon. Both Earth's history and the galaxy's would have been irrevocably changed and almost certainly for the worse.

Shaking off his normal pessimism for the optimism and snark he typically projected, and shifting back and forth on his feet, Jack called to his team mates, “How's it going over here, campers? Any progress?”

Carter replied, “There is no way to figure out in the time we have how to fix this with moving the crystals, we just don't know enough about the DHD. We'd be more likely to blow it up than rig it to dial the gate. So we're trying to use these cables to connect directly to the gate and power it that way. I think we can get it to work but it's going to take time, sir. This isn't exactly proper protocol. The crystals have to interface with the -”

“Yadda, yadda, Carter, you're working on getting it fixed. Keep at it, I'm gonna go check on Daniel and the elderly.”

Carter nodded and turned back to her work while Jack made his way in the direction Ernest had taken Daniel, unconsciously rubbing his arm.

Jack watched as Ernest showed Daniel the book device thingy in the language room and watched as Daniel's mind started to spin out of control. Jack got it. He understood the potential importance of this place and this room in particular but it was his job to keep his team focused. Daniel can't really help in the other room so Jack was going to let him have some fun here but reminded him to keep it under control. With Ernest's help, Daniel understood this was a life's work and went back to discussing it and filming it in wonder.

Jack smiled at his excited team mate and shook his head. The things that got his geeks' blood pumping baffled him sometimes. But that is what made them such a good team. They weren't clones of one another. They complemented each other's strengths and compensated for each other's weaknesses. Jack really felt lucky to have such a great team.

Jack returned back up the steps and down the hall towards Carter and Teal'c, shaking his hands and twiddling his fingers. Suddenly, he stopped dead. Thinking back over the past several minutes he realized that his extremities had been experiencing familiar pain sensations. “Crap!”

Jack veered off the path from where he was to a room with a balcony overlooking the ocean. He moved away from the entrance and to the side and slid down the wall to sit on the floor with his back pressed against it and his knees drawn up. He put his head down on them and waited, knowing it wouldn't be long now and feeling lucky to have understood the problem before he was found by a team mate falling into a vision haze in the middle of the hall or worse, in the middle of a sentence. That is why the prickles – pain – whatever happened. Since joining the Air Force and experiencing real pain, Jack had a problem calling the sensation that preceded a vision pain, but many people called it that.

While waiting for his vision to start, Jack wondered if Ernest and Catherine were soul mates. They had been engaged before Ernest came through the gate to this place but Catherine had believed he was dead. Did the distance effect things? Or the gate itself? Jack had no idea but guessed he may be about to find out but then again, the situation was different. Jack had yet to meet his mate. He still got the visions of his mate's life not feelings of his mate's emotions and the bond.

Jack shrugged. No one really understood the soul mate process fully and they had yet to meet any other society that knew about it. Daniel said the Abydonians had never heard of such a thing but he had found writings deep in the catacombs that spoke of bonds and mates and souls journeys but it also said something about people not being able to do that anymore when they were brought there by Ra.

His musings were cut short when his vision began. Jack was in a strangely familiar situation. His mate was falling gently through the air, the sky around him pitch dark, lights on the ground in the distance, his mate looked up and around and Jack could see the parachute that was carefully helping his mate to the ground and the tail of a plane high up above his mate's canopy and moving away fast. His mate was on a night parachute jump. Jack could not see any other chutes around and his mate was doing plenty of looking about so he knew there weren't any to be seen. It was a completely solo night parachute jump. Jack watched as his mate drifted to the ground in the middle of trees and landed badly, falling and then limping after he got up and began gathering the chute together for transport. Jack tried to see any markings on it but couldn't see any before the vision ended and Jack was again on the planet where Ernest had lived for so long.

Jack raised his head.  _Okay,_ he thought _, my mate must be in the military. Obviously special forces. A solo parachute jump is one thing but a night solo jump is indicative of some serious deep cover stuff. Maybe more black ops than special forces. Wetwork, maybe. That plane. I didn't get a great look but I'd swear it was American. Or maybe European. Not Russian, thank God. I need to write this down until I can put it in my notebook. It would have been better for me to see something more clearly about where he landed. Even part of his mission._ His mission _!_

“Shit!” Jack cursed loudly.  _If I saw_ him _from_ here _and could have seen_ his _mission – shit,_ he _must be seeing_ mine _and I have_ no idea _who he is or_ where _and as black ops, he could be military or maybe CIA or_ crap _! That is going to make things difficult. How can I find him under those conditions? And I need to find him, we can't have some one we don't know and can't vet out there seeing classified Stargate missions. Oh God, I have to tell Hammond!_

 

* * *

 

 

__

_ Everyone  was back safe and Ernest and Catherine were doing well and Daniel was working on Ernest's book and the videos from the “meaning of life stuff” room. Carter was making note of what she learned about the DHD and sharing it with the other eggheads. Teal'c was doing his exercises in the gym. Jack asked General Hammond for a meeting after the debriefing was over and it was scheduled for the next morning since it was not urgent and the general had meetings all day with other teams. _

_ Jack finished writing up his report on the events that occurred on the planet Daniel was calling Heliopolis and Jack just privately called “Ernest's planet”. He then leaned back in his chair and started worrying. He  _had_ to find his mate. This was going to be a total clusterfuck! Jack hadn't thought about finding his mate in years. He had always kept track of the visions but when Charlie was alive, he always decided to wait until Charlie was old enough to understand about Jack and Sara and mates and marriage and family even though his mate was now more than old enough to be found and then suddenly Charlie was gone and Jack was lost and came so close to just ending it until he got pulled into the Stargate program and Daniel got through his depression when they were on Abydos. _

_ Jack decided to do a search and see if he could find him and then his meeting with Hammond the next day would be of a different tone than Jack feared would be the case if he couldn't find him. Jack's notebook of facts from the visions was at home and he really  _hadn't_ thought about it in years, since Charlie was a baby, really, so Jack was trying to remember some of the details.  _

Jack recalled his first vision perfectly well, of his teenaged mate playing football and getting tackled. He knew his mate wasn't Canadian since it was American football and not soccer. He was pretty sure that kids in Canada didn't play American football since they were Canadian. And he knew he had seen his mate playing other sports through the years, and twice running on a track. He was pretty fast. Jack sat at his desk trying to remember the last vision before the one he had that day and couldn't recall a thing.

Jack booted up a person search program on his computer and typed in the date range for his mate's possible birthday. He then added male, armed forces, American, and athlete, cringing. The computer beeped a few minutes late. There were over 150,000 hits. Jack's head fell to his desk, again and again. He resolved to bring his notebook and try again in the morning before his 0830 meeting with Hammond.

The next morning, Jack used the facts in his notebook to narrow the field. He added in high school football, track, basketball, eliminated states where the leaves did not change color in October, added high school mascot – Eagles, and input parachute jumping trained. The result was a slightly more manageable 39,000 hits. Jack wanted to cry. He knew what was going to happen in his meeting with Hammond and he hated it. Mates were private, damn it! But he knew he wouldn't have a choice.

Jack shut down the program, slid the notebook into his pocket and left his office, headed for General Hammond's office. The General's aide, Sgt Harriman, sent him right in since he was on time. After a brief salute which caused raised eyebrows he was waved to a seat.

_“ Alright, Colonel O'Neill, what can I do for you this morning?” asked the General, a bit of a wobble in his voice at his 2IC's uncharacteristic behavior._

_“ A few things came up during the mission yesterday that I wanted to speak with you about, sir. First, the situation with the DHD. We were incredibly lucky, sir. When the MALP saw the back of the DHD we just assumed everything was fine. In reality, it wasn't. The DHD was broken and according to Ernest, it had been since before he arrived. Luckily, we had Carter and Teal'c available to try to rig something up but not every team will be as lucky. And if we hadn't come up with the idea of using the lightning to power the gate, we would have had to join Ernest in making our home on that planet for who knows how long, sir.”_

_“ I see the problem, Colonel. We were complacent. What do we do about it?”_

_“ I think, General, that we need to have the MALPs do a more thorough check of the area around the gate. We definitely need to get a full view of any DHD from all angles. If we had known ahead of time about the busted DHD, we could have taken a generator or more than a makeshift MacGyver solution on site. I understand that sometimes that is what will need to be done but this time it could have been prepared for with better recon.”_

_“ Agreed, Colonel. I'll add it to the recon brief.”_

_“ Thank you, sir.”_

_“ Was there anything else, Colonel?”_

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes, sir. There is something else. Sir, this is – difficult for me to - this isn't something one would normally talk about, sir, certainly not to a superior officer but – I have to do this because I realized something serious and – well, sir, while I was on Ernest's planet yesterday, I – well, I had my yearly vision, sir.”

_“ Jack?!? Are you telling me, Colonel, that you have never met you mate?”_

_“ Yes, sir. I've never met them, and they are alive and currently over puberty and yesterday I saw a vision through their eyes.”_

General Hammond took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Colonel, was yesterday the first true vision you have had of your mate?”

Jack bit his lip and shook his head. “No, sir. My first vision of my mate after they reached puberty was in 1983. They were around 13 at the time, sir. I was – just back from my honeymoon, sir.”

General Hammond sat back in his chair. “I had assumed – erroneously it seems – that you and your wife were mates. That you were struggling due to your son but would work it out.”

Jack shook his head. “No, sir. I – Sara and I – we met -,” Jack blew his breath out forcefully, “Sorry, sir, this is supposed to be private and I – I hate this, General.”

George Hammond nodded. “I understand, son. I don't want you to have to tell me this any more than you want to do so, but I've seen the problem here and need to know.”

Jack nodded. “Yes, sir. Sara and I met through a match making agency. We were both in the same boat, so to speak. Our mates had died and were going to be much younger than us and we wanted to have a family and in my case, well, sir, it turned out that my mate was re-born as a male, so I had another reason to marry Sara.”

_“ A male, Jack? No, just – we'll deal with that later. So, you and Sara married and wanted to have a family and then would look for your mates later? But if your mate was 13 in 1983 – you could have searched years ago, Jack.”_

_“ Well, I – well, actually, we – that is Sara and I – decided to wait until any kids we had were old enough to understand the situation before we went looking, sir. We talked about it and decided before we got married. And Ch – Charlie was only almost 10 when – when he died, sir. We weren't ready yet to explain and then he was gone and – well, sir, I'm sure you know why they chose me for the original Abydos mission? I was in a very dark place and was drinking myself into a stupor every night and I'm pretty sure I was unconscious and drunk when I should have had my vision last year, sir. I – I've been trying to recall it and I can't and the thing is – a vision may have been what I needed to shock me out of my funk, sir, but I must have been dead drunk. I've heard that if you are unconscious enough to not have the vision pre-pain wake you, then you usually won't recall the vision. Any that certainly seems to be the case with me and then I got called to Abydos and the gate and Daniel, well, sir, he saved my life and got me out of my depression and I came home and didn't really think about mates, I was still so caught up with Charlie, sir and then Apophis and SG-1 started and well, I just didn't think about it until I was hit with the vision yesterday and realized that if I was seeing a vision of him perfectly than he could be seeing me on missions through the gate. It depends on where I am when that time hits him.”_

_“ Yes, Jack, I said I could see the problem. This is a _highly_ classified project. And you have no idea what your mate is seeing or if they can be trusted with the information they gather from their visions of you.”_

_“ Yes, sir. And I wondered if others in the command are in this situation. I'm sure not everyone has met their mates, sir. Just statistically speaking, General. I think, I know mates are private and I _hate_ this but we need to find out and help institute mate searches where possible, I think, sir.”_

General Hammond sat back and let out a small groan. “You're right, Colonel O'Neill.” He grinned. “And you get to go first. I'll have Sgt Harriman call SG-1 to the briefing room and you can explain the problem to them and at the same time find out their situations in this matter. I'm sure Captain Carter can help you with this search.”

General Hammond proceeded to call his aide and have him summon the remainder of his premier team.

Jack sat up straight, dreading the coming meeting. “Sir, I understand. I tried a search using my notes and the results were – unwieldy to say the least.”

General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill rose to their feet. “I'm sure the brains on your team will help you narrow it down further, Colonel.”

_ As the General and Colonel took their accustomed seats at the briefing table, Jack pondered what he would say to his team when they arrived. He was worried what they would think, what they would say. He knew that Daniel would be fine with his mate being a man but he wasn't sure about Carter or Teal'c. He hoped it wouldn't be an issue. It wasn't actually against any laws or regulations. It was just highly discouraged, looked down on, laughed over, hazed about, brought beatings under the guise of kidding and teasing. Just like in his hometown, homosexuality was not seen as a good thing in the military and soldiers learned by the end of boot camp if they didn't know beforehand to not tell anyone who didn't  _need_ to know about a same sex mate. Usually it only came out if the binding happened in public in front of someone military. If Jack had met his mate and bonded before this, he would have simply gained a roommate and no one would have asked about anything further even if it was suspected. _

Soon, the rest of the team was seated at the table and looking expectantly at the General. He shook his head. “This isn't really my meeting, SG-1. Jack brought something to my attention that happened on yesterday's mission that deeply effects him and by extension, you all, his team. It will also potentially effect a number (whether that number is large or small is yet to be determined) of soldiers and civilians on this base. Jack will be the test case, as it were. I'm going to leave him to explain what happened and what we have decided to do about it. Good luck, Jack.”

Jack smiled wryly at his commanding officer. “Thank you, sir.”

General Hammond nodded at the team and returned to his office, closing the door behind him and Jack sat up straight. “Okay, campers. I have a rather personal question I need you all to answer and I apologize for any awkwardness and embarrassment in advance and will make clear to you the issue when I answer the question myself after you all have done it since that it what – well, you'll see.”

Daniel sat forward. “What's going on, Jack?”

Jack sighed, “Okay, again, sorry for this. I need to know each of your situations regarding the status of your soul's mate in your life. That is, not their name, if you know it, but rather, have you met, bonded, not met, are searching, they died, whether that was before or after meeting, are they in puberty or not, those kinds of answers.”

_“ Sir,” interrupted Carter, “all due respect, but that is none of your business.”_

_“ Historically, Jack, you did just break a very large cultural taboo with those questions. I'm willing to answer because I think I see the issue you have going on here but this is going to open a _huge_ can of worms and really challenge people's mores. This could end up in court if some people push it.”_

_“ Smart guy, Daniel, aren't ya? Sorry, Carter, but I need to know the answers to those questions if you want to remain in this command. You'll get it later, I promise.”_

Carter frowned, “Yes, sir. But -”

Daniel interrupted her. “Relax, Sam. I understand Jack's concerns. And there may be ones he hasn't thought of that I have but that seem to be moot.”

Teal'c spoke up, his deep voice resonating over the room, “I will answer these questions because the answer is that I do not have what you call a soul's mate. I had never heard of such a thing among all of the planets I have visited until I came to live among the Tauri. I believed at first that it was a metaphorical thing until I came upon an airman in the midst of a vision quest. I then asked Doctor Frasier about it as I feared the man was ill. She explained things to me and gave me several books on the matter. It is fascinating.”

“Thanks, T. So, Teal'c had never heard of it. I wondered. I knew Daniel had told me that they only had vague mentions of it in the very distant past from Abydos, probably from _before Ra took them from here.”_

Daniel nodded. “Yes, there were very vague oral traditions but it had never happened in generations and in the catacombs there was a section of writing where it said that since the god Ra had brought them here, no one newly born who had never had a vision before had one when they reached seeking age, which would be puberty, obviously. And no other world we have been to has anything more concrete than that. It seems that whatever causes soul's mating is limited to those born here on Earth. It is an interesting study, is it something in the atmosphere or the water or -”

_“ Daniel! As interesting as I am sure you find this and as captivating as the eggheads will find your theories, right now I need answers to my questions.”_

_“ Right, sorry Jack.”_

Carter spoke up. “Wait. So if no Abydonian has a soul's mate, then Sha're isn't -”

Daniel's face twisted in a mixture of grief and guilt. “No, Sha're is not my soul's mate. It does not appear that anyone will have a mate born on another planet. To answer Jack's question, my mate died when I was 28. I never met them. I started getting the color cloud visions about two years after that when I was on Abydos. That would make them currently maybe 3 years old, possibly only 2, perhaps 4 but that is unlikely. I do love Sha're. I would never have pursued her but I couldn't let them kill her if I shamed her by denying her and over the year we were together, I truly fell in love with her and would have stayed with her forever if Apophis hadn't intervened.”

Jack patted Daniel on the shoulder. “Sorry, Daniel.”

Sam reached out and squeezed his hand and Teal'c lowered his head. “Again, my apologies, DanielJackson.”

Daniel shook his head. “Things happen guys. Teal'c, again, I have forgiven you. You were a slave. It is Apophis and the Goa'uld who are at fault, not you or your people,” Daniel turned to Sam, turning his hand over so she was now holding his hand palm to palm, “Your turn, Sam.” He squeezed her hand.

Carter swallowed, “I'd just like it to be on the record that I object to this.”

_“ Noted, Carter.”_

Carter nodded, “Alright, sir. It is fairly a long story. When I first began getting visions, they were colored clouds, meaning my mate had not yet reached puberty, though I had. This isn't too unusual. It happens quite a lot actually since two mates almost never hit puberty at the exact same time. Even if they are the same age and reach puberty in the same year, vision almost never occur on the same day. Soul's mates just aren't conceived on the same day which is the only way that would happen. Or at least not very often. So, I wasn't worried. After the second vision occurred that way, I realized I wasn't the same age as my mate so I might have one more colored cloud vision. And I did. Then a fourth and a fifth and research showed me that my mate must have died when we were both children, too young for either of us to have visions, or at least my mate died when I was a child, they could have been an adult at the time and I could have died previously and now they had. Regardless, we were no longer in the three years or less apart average grouping. I waited and my sixth vision was the same, as was my seventh, eighth and ninth. Then, with my tenth vision, rather than colored clouds, they were black and gray. My mate had died. The next vision was colors again but after three years, it was again black and gray. I have never seen a proper vision of my soul's mate. Since I reached puberty my mate has died five times. Five years I have gotten the black and gray storm visions. I had a vision three weeks ago and it was black and gray after three visions of colors. My mate has died, again. I'm a scientist but sometimes I feel as if I am cursed. I've never told anyone this. My father knows about the first death but no one until now knew about the rest. I have basically given up on the entire idea, at least for this life and am focusing on my career.”

Daniel squeezed Sam's hand and pulled her in close to give her a side hug, rubbing her shoulder.

_“ I'm very sorry you had to do that, Carter.”_

She nodded, blinking back tears. “Thank you, sir, but can you explain now please.”

Jack nodded, “The reason I need to know is because yesterday I had a vision of my soul's mate living their life and I came to the realization that they must be seeing mine. That is, they are seeing this base, the gate, classified missions, things that can't be explained. And I have no idea who they are or how to find them. And when talking with General Hammond about this, we realized that other people, both military and civilian could be having the same issue and we need to institute a program to search for un-found mates of those working on this base before we have a national security breach of monumental proportions.”

Carter sat up. “Your wife, sir? She isn't -”

Jack's lips twisted wryly, hating this, “No, captain, Sara was not my mate. My mate and I were about the same age, then when I was 18, they died and were not reborn until I was 20. I wanted a family and ended up going to a matchmaking agency where I eventually met Sara. It was one of the good agencies and she was in the same situation as I was. Her mate had died before meeting and she wanted a family before she was too old and we agreed when the time was right and both our mates and our kids were old enough we would go on a search and have a blended family. But then, well, Charlie died and here we are. I love Sara but we can't – or more to the point, I can't get past what happened. So, now I need to find my mate and the General thinks you, my team, the brain trust, can help and at the same time, establish a basic system for others to follow.”

Carter nodded and Daniel smiled. “Sure thing, Jack. No problem.”

Teal'c nodded. “I too will assist as I can.”

_“ Thanks guys.”_

_“ Alright, sir,” Sam sat forward. “To start with, we need all pertinent data you have collected from your visions over the years. What can you recall? Your vision occurred yesterday, so your mate was conceived in late September to early October. You said your mate was re-born when you were 20, so they must be somewhere between 31 and 33 right now. Can you tell us any details of yesterday's vision or any of your others? Do you remember any sights from the distance of a vision? Can you see those? What kind of things - “_

_“ Carter! Take a breath!” Jack pulled out his notebook and opened it. “Do you want to start with the first vision and work forward or start yesterday and work backwards?”_

Carter stared at him. “Did you write everything down last night when you realized the problem, sir?”

Jack shook his head at the captain. “No, Carter. I made note of each vision and any and all details as soon as I could after it was over. The first one was almost twenty years ago. And – uh – I was unconscious last year and don't recall anything of whatever that vision was. So, 19 visions are documented in this notebook, gang.”

Daniel reached for the notebook and then pulled back when Jack unconsciously pulled it towards himself wanting to protect its secrets. “Okay, Jack, we need to know what you've seen and we'll figure out the best ways to search. Let's start with the first vision and go from there.”

Jack grit his teeth as Carter opened up a program on a nearby computer. “First off, I'll narrow it down for you. My mate is a man.”

_ Carter spun around in her chair and stared at him and Teal'c raised a single eyebrow. “I did not know that you were  _rimt'y_ , O'Neill.” _

Jack looked to Daniel for help. Daniel grinned subtly and helped him out, “Best translation, mankind as opposed to womankind, in the vernacular, gay or more technically, homosexual.”

Jack turned to Teal'c. “I don't consider myself gay or straight or anything. I find attractive who I find attractive and my soul's mate is wearing a male body. They are the other half of me. I don't care what their plumbing looks like,” he turned to Carter, “or if it is on the inside or the outside. I came to terms with my sexuality when I was 13. Even before being reborn my mate was male. I really couldn't care less. I'm not homophobic or waving a rainbow flag. I'm just me and my mate is my mate.”

_“ Very well said, O'Neill. Among the Jaffa it is very usual to take a man as a shield mate – a lover among the ranks of the army – and a woman to wed for children. It is encouraged by many of the Goa'uld because men fight better for ones that they love personally as well as a common god.”_

Carter lowered her eyes, seemingly confused and shook her head. “Sorry, sir, I just wouldn't have pictured you as – um – okay, so,” she turned back to the program, “we're looking for a male, conceived sometime between, um, sir?”

_“ The earliest I have had a vision is September 28 and the latest so far is October 7. I had my first color cloud vision when I was almost 20, in 1971. I had my first full vision of him in 1983.”_

“Okay,” Carter worked on some calculations, “taking into account the time in history, medically speaking, and possible complications, based on those figures, your mate had to have been born between March 25, 1971 and August 11, 1971, but most likely between June 7 and July 21, 1971. We have to go early because even back then babies born at six months could survive, nowadays it is even earlier, and he could have been born as much as a month or so late. But statistically speaking, it is most likely he was born between 36 and 41 weeks. But for the search, we'll use the broader parameters until we can narrow it down in any way.”

“Okay,” said Jack. “You're the math and science geek.”

“What else have you learned that can narrow things down a bit, Jack?” asked Daniel.

“Okay, well, um, I don't know how much help the visions from his teenage years will be. But he played football, American football, ya know, touchdowns and tackles, for a team called the Eagles. He was a running back and on October 2, 1983, he played against a team called the Lions. He was tackled at least twice in those ten minutes. The place where he was had trees that were turning colors in the fall. In later visions, I saw him playing for the Eagles again but playing soccer but I couldn't read the other team's jersey name. The team colors were black and red. I saw him running on a track in several visions, I don't know if it was gym class or if he was on the track team or if he was just a runner.”

Jack paged slowly through the notebook, reading various notations. “During my visions, even when something good in a sport happened, he never looked at the stands. I made a note of that. Don't know if it means no one was there or it was just a coincidence and if no one was there, it could be because they were always busy or sick or he didn't have anyone.”

“He could have been an orphan,” said Daniel.

Jack nodded, “Yeah. I never saw a vision of him with family or at least no one who looked like family. I saw visions of him when he must have been in college at parties and drinking, doing keg stands and bonging beers. I never saw any kind of insignia with a college name or anything in those visions. And the after college ones, I saw him playing basketball, several times, in different gyms, seemingly pick up games. Some of the gyms were in good shape, some seemed pretty rundown. I saw him grocery shopping once and clothes shopping once but he didn't look at a store name or store brand while I was with him. I've seen him watching TV a lot and once at a movie theater but I don't know how much help it will be, he was watching American Beauty in the theater, it was a new release, out everywhere at the time and he watched old movies on AMC and TCM, I saw the logos on the screen and once he was watching a tape of Magnum, PI on the TV. One of the years he must have been in college, all I saw was him reading, he must have been studying, a book about movement and kinesiology. It was a lot of technical terms but I don't know if it was for a major, a minor, or just a class for credits in a science field. I really don't have much. Or, well, I didn't.”

Jack took a deep breath as they all turned to look at him. “Yesterday, the vision was of him doing a solo nighttime parachute jump. The plane he came from looked to be American, or possibly European or Canadian or Australian, but definitely __not_ Russian or Middle Eastern. I didn't get a great look and it was from behind and below but that was my take on it. He landed in the midst of a forested area but there was a city in the far distance and a smaller populated area not far from where he landed. And he jumped alone. There were no other chutes around him, anywhere. To me, that points strongly, almost definitely, to special ops or black ops. No newbie would be sent on a solo jump at night. And no solo night jump is just for fun.”_

Carter sat back in her chair, “Well, sir, the plane may have been not American but your mate almost certainly is, or possibly Canadian. It is highly unlikely, statistically speaking, that he would be European or Australian, he may be living there now, but not born there.”

_“ Sam's right,” chimed in Daniel. “Statistically, it is somewhere like .003 percent of mates that are born in countries separated by an ocean. And only 5 percent are born in different countries at all. Granted, you being born so close to the Canadian border could put you in that 5 percent but you would have been at the Academy when they were born, right? So, that makes it likely they are American.”_

_“ And, sir, you can't make assumptions. The solo night parachute jump is weird if they aren't special or black ops, I agree, and they are likely military, I can't think anyone reputable would send a tourist on a solo night jump into a forested area. But they could be – um – well, a spy or – um – well, sir, they could conceivably be a criminal. It is unlikely but if we are going to find him, we can't assume. If we narrow it down based on this to special or black ops, or even just to military, and he isn't, then we've lost from the beginning. We'll search based on some of the parameters we have and see what we can come up with.”_

_“ And while Sam concentrates on you specifics, I'll work up a general questionnaire for others in your situation to find their mate to get them vetted and all that. And to protect them from people who would want to use what they see against them or against us.”_

Jack nodded. “Okay, thanks guys. Carter, let me know what you come up with. And Daniel, I'll set up a meeting with General Hammond about the base wide program in three days, so have a report, at least a basic one, ready by then.”

Daniel put a hand on Jack's shoulder. “We'll find him, Jack, I promise.” The other members of SG-1 nodded at him and Jack smiled at them in some relief.

 

     

                           Jack O'Neill on Ernest's planet                                       Tony DiNozzo (name unknown to Jack) jumping from plane

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Jack sat on the floor inside a damned cave, he didn't care how sophisticated these people were, it was a cave, completely underground, they lived in caves like the god damned snakes they were. He didn't care if they were supposedly “good” snakes. He didn't see much difference between what Jolinar did to Carter and what Amaunet did to Sha're. _At least until Jolinar died so Carter could live. But she was going to die anyway! Snakes were snakes, period. They could call themselves Goa'uld or Tok'ra, a rose by any other name was still a snake! Or, well something like that. They claimed they shared the body fully with the host but how could anyone be_ sure? _The snakes could be pretty good actors, Jolinar fooled everyone that it was Carter until Cassie felt it inside her and just look at poor Kawalsky. He was taken by one, an immature one at that, and we still didn't know until it was almost too late. Poor guy. As is he hadn't been through enough. He was a really good guy. A great soldier. He didn't deserve to go out like that. Nothing more that a vehicle for an evil, galaxy ruling, parasitic snake! He could have died on his feet in battle, protecting his country, like he almost did all those years ago in Eastern Europe. But, no. His death was so senseless. Necessary, but ultimately senseless. I know he was hoping we could fix him but I know he understood why we killed him._

_I would hope my team would kill me if I were taken by one of those things. I'm going to have to talk to Hammond about a specific living will for that situation. I'm sure I'm not the only one who would want that choice to be clear to everyone. No snakes! Kill me! Perfectly clear orders._

Jack looked around at his team as they sat waiting for these Tok'ra things to decide what to do with them. He knew they shouldn't have come looking for snakes but Carter was sure they would be good allies. And they knew Goa'uld tactics and technology. They could help us beat them.  _Yeah, right,_ Jack thought derisively as he shifted against the wall,  _when have we met advanced people that really_ help _us? I mean, look at the high and mighty Tollan. Officious, snobbish bastards. Okay, so Samuels was going to like hold them hostage until we had their tech and understood it, so Daniel did the right thing but they didn't have to be so condescending to all of us. We helped them contact another advanced race that could help them get home. And speaking of the Nox,_ Jack rubbed his hands up his arms _, okay fine, they brought us back to life but they brought the bad guys back, too. And they kept calling us children._ The very young often do not do as they are told _. Just because they are as old as dirt! They could have helped fight the Goa'uld all this time. Instead, they hide. I like Lya but I hate her attitude about things. I think the very old are unable to change! And it will get them killed if they aren't careful. And of course, the other advanced race, the Asgard and their Protected Planets Treaty. How much good is it if the people can't contact them if something bad happens? If they need outsiders to help them contact their protectors? Damn! Stupid policies._

Jack began shifting around, his legs flexing.

Carter looked at him from across the room. “Sir, are you alright?”

“Just peachy, Carter. I love being held captive, don't you? It's so refreshing.”

“Jack, I think she meant, you are acting like you have ants in your pants. You can't seem to hold still over there. You keep fidgeting, even more than usual.”

Jack arched his eyebrows at them, “I'm just naturally fidgety when I'm confined by a race that could have been allies if they weren't snakes.”

Daniel shook his head. “No, Jack, I think it's something else.” Jack could almost see the gears turning inside Daniel's head. “Jack. It is early October.”

Jack choked on an indrawn breath as he registered Daniel's meaning. He closed his eyes and took stock of his body.  _Yep, book boy is right, this is the pre-vision tingling. Great, just what I need._

Jack nodded his head at his team. “Danny's right, unfortunately. I don't even register the tingles anymore. I know people call it pain, but it really isn't, not to me, anyway. I almost didn't realize it last year, either.”

Carter looked at him with sympathy in her expression, seeming to understand why it didn't feel painful to him, considering his history. “Sir, I understand. Visions are supposed to be private and you're already going to have to tell us all about it when we get back home, if not sooner. We don't have a whole lot of options here but we can at least give you an illusion of privacy.”

“Indeed, O'Neill. We will turn our backs and allow you your time alone to experience your mate's life.” Teal'c suited actions to his words and turned his back on the team leader.

“Thanks, T.”

Daniel leaned forward. “We can do one better. We'll turn our backs and stand in front of you, so the Tok'ra can't see you either, since there are no doors here, just guards.”

“Great idea, Daniel!” gushed Carter. And his team proceeded to do just that, standing in front of Jack in a semi-circle, their bodies blocking Jack from the door archway. Anyone looking in wouldn't be able to see him unless they came in and physically moved his team away from him. “Just tell us when it's over, sir and we'll move.”

“Thanks,” Jack said softly, acknowledging the gift his team was giving him.

His team always had his back, Jack acknowledged privately. Even when he was stuck to the wall of the gateroom by that metal sphere, they were there for him, figuring things out. He truly appreciated all of them, so different and yet so fundamentally the same at their cores. Loyalty. Fidelity. Bravery. That was his team. SG-1.

As he was musing, Jack found himself staring through a windshield of a car, watching cars in front of him, his peripheral vision seeing the cars and other objects around him, the hands on the steering wheel tapping to presumably the radio that Jack couldn't hear. The car was driving along surface streets past brick houses and small strip malls filled with stores you could see anywhere in the country: Macy's, Sears, Staples, Wendy's, Burger King, Shell, BP. Also seen were stores with names that were not uncommon and could be seen in almost every large city: China Moon, John's Dry Cleaning, Pizza City. The car was moving at a fairly swift pace and the driver was not really looking at the buildings he was passing. He knew where he was going and how to get there. Finally, they stopped at a red light and the driver glanced at the passenger seat. There was a box with some Chinese food containers inside it and a the top of a generic check could be seen. Then the car was moving again as the light changed back to green and Jack was seeing the back's of his teammates in front of his eyes.

Jack sighed aloud and spoke to his team. “I'm back, guys.”

The team shifted and retook their places sitting on the floor around the room. “Do you want to talk about it now, Jack, or wait until we get home?”

“I don't want to forget what I saw, Daniel. He was driving in a car. He wasn't really paying attention to landmarks or street signs, he knew the route he was taking. Knew it pretty well it seemed. There were lots of two and three story brick houses and some stores that you see pretty much all over, like Sears and Macy's. And when he stopped at a light, I saw food in Chinese take-out boxes next to him. I think, I just have a feeling, but I think he was delivering it. Does that mean he's Asian? I mean, most guys who work at Chinese restaurants are Asian themselves, right? Not like Italian pizza places.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Stereotyping much, Jack. Granted more Chinese restaurants have workers who are Asian than Italian take-out places have workers who are Italian but you are assuming again. First, you can't know he works as a delivery man. He could have been taking it to co-workers or home to a party or yes, he could be doing his job and delivering for money but even then, delivery workers are less likely to be tied ethnically to what they deliver than say, waiters or cooks at a restaurant. So, no, it does not make him Asian. But we will input the possibility of it being his job into the search program and see what happens. And we won't rule out Asian as an ethnicity but we won't rule everything else out either.”

“I agree, sir. And I want to focus on what else you saw. He was driving for the full vision? Through a residential district? And there was only one light or only one that turned red that he had to stop at?” Carter asked.

“He was definitely in a city, not a small town. He was driving the whole time and I feel he hadn't just gotten into the car, nor was he nearing his destination. But, that could be wrong. And, I suppose it could have been a large town or suburb but it didn't feel like a suburb but a city. But I didn't see a specific skyline that I recognized. I don't know if that means he was in a city whose skyline I don't know or if he just wasn't somewhere you could see the iconic portions from. And he went through multiple intersections, he just was hitting the green lights along the way. There were lots of houses and he stayed on the same street, no turns during the vision and I never got a good look at a street sign, I think I saw one that said 4 th but I'm not positive. It could have been 14 th or 24 th or 9 th even. It was definitely a number but I couldn't even see if it said “Street” or “Avenue” or “Road”. I know that doesn't help narrow things down much. But it's all I got, campers.”

“Alright, Jack. We'll input it, and tell us the names of the stores you remember. The names might not narrow things on their own but their proximity might help.”

Jack nodded and began his recitation, hoping they would get out of here soon as he saw that Martouf guy talking to the guards at the door archway.

 

    

                              Jack O'Neill on Tok'ra base                                Tony DiNozzo posing as delivery boy


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Jack sat in the back of the Goa'uld cargo ship, slumped against some cargo boxes with others surrounding him, pretending to be asleep. Most of the rest of his team was in much the same state, plus Martouf and Jacob. After all, it wasn't everyday you escaped from hell. Personally, Jack was just trying to come to terms with the memory hallucination he had experienced when being questioned by Apophis under the Blood of Sokar crap. He never actually forgot about his son, he never would but after the crystal alien and then the Ree'tou boy who had taken the name Charlie, Jack had dealt with much of his trauma from what had happened. And it was hard to dwell constantly on Charlie's death when Jack was pretty much constantly in peril of his own life and his team's lives.

_How many times have I nearly died now? Or actually died? Or thought I was going to die? Or thought I wasn't going to make it home again? Right. Or traveled back in time to when I was wandering around in Minnesota as a kid while I was crossing the country in a bus driven by hippies trying to escape and find our way back to the present with the help of both the General Hammond of now and his note and the Lieutenant Hammond of then. That was a brain twister right enough._

_And what would have happened if I had gone to Minnesota and met myself? Or if we had stumbled across little Daniel, or young Carter. We couldn't have run into Teal'c, obviously, not without leaving the planet, anyway but what if? Would the world have imploded? Time space twisted into a pretzel? Or nothing, just living life and have crazy whacked out adventures in a stupid science fiction story that I live. I hate science fiction! And what if I had met my soul's mate then, when I was back in time? I guess, at that point it would have been before they were re-born and they would have been in the body of the kid I saw in the showers when I was 13. How would that have effected the bond?_

_1969\. My mate's original body – they died in 1969 or early 1970. What if they died because I did run across them when time traveling and it killed them because I knew they died and was having visions of them re-born and they wouldn't have died if not for the solar flare that sent me back in time to run into them when I was in the wrong time and they were in the wrong body? I don't remember meeting any kids or rather, teens when we were there but I mean, I could have just bumped into them or something or man I'm giving myself a headache and it's a moot point since I can never know for sure. But wow interesting and weird. I wonder if Carter ran into her soul's mate when we were there and that's why they can't seem to get to puberty? At least until Carter reached the point where they met or something like that. I don't think we can know and I'll never bring it up, I'm not that cruel and if my situation made me wonder about the time travel and Carter's situation it definitely could make her think of it, assuming she hasn't already on her own._

_Carter really has lousy luck in that regard, love and mates and all. I mean, even when she tried to find love without a mate, I mean, Jonas Hanson? What was she thinking? A guy who would go nuts and decided he deserved to be treated like a god just because he had weapons and the people didn't? And Martouf? I mean, I know she's all messed up about him because of that snake she had in her but really, to fall for a guy who is voluntarily sharing his body with a Goa'uld? Tok'ra. Whatever. Same thing more or less. And then what's his face from the Tollan. Nazim – Nubean – Neddeen – Narim! Right. Granted, he wasn't as snobbish and grating as the rest of those holier than thou morons but she had to know nothing could possibly come of it._

_And even in alternate universes Carter has rotten luck. The one that got decimated by the Goa'uld where my counterpart was a – ugh –_ General _, Carter's counterpart was engaged and he said they didn't even kiss good-bye when_ General _O'Neill was going off to probable death. And of course, in that other universe Carter and that O'Neill actually married and he was killed while she and Kawalsky came here for help. I wonder, in those two universes, realities, whatever, were those O'Neills mates with those Carters or were they just using them like I did Sara? And if they were mates than that proves that we aren't the same person because my soul's mate is_ not _Samantha Carter! No offense to her but we just aren't. My mate is some guy who played football in high school and watched old movies and TV shows and jumps out of airplanes at night by himself and delivers Chinese food._

_So, maybe those realities don't have the soul's mate bond? It isn't like we asked them about it. We rarely even talk about it among ourselves unless we have to. It's been several years and I'm still no closer to finding my mate then I was when this started after Ernest's planet. And a surprisingly high number of airmen and scientists had never met their mates before coming here but once questioned and the info put into Carter and Daniel's search program over 95 percent of those in that situation have found and met their mates. It is freaky. Either it is an incredibly good program and my mate is just a pain in the ass who can't be found or something else is going on somehow with this. Who knows? And why am I dwelling so much on soul's mates. I've barely had more than passing thoughts about him in almost a year. Oh._ Jack thought as suddenly he no longer saw the gold walls of the Tok'ra cargo ship, _that explains it, my subconscious knew this was happening but I couldn't consciously feel it through the other pain._

Again, Jack saw his mate sitting in a car, though this time he was in the passenger's seat. And the car was parked and he was eating a pizza? His mate's eyes looked down at the slice in his hand, it was pepperoni and some kind of other meat, maybe sausage, maybe beef, and the cheese was oozing off of it as it was pulled away from the mouth. As his mate presumably chewed the bite of pizza, he glanced sideways and Jack saw the inhabitant of the driver's seat, though not clearly. It was dark inside the car, once again, obviously nighttime at his mate's location, the interior dome light was off and while Jack could tell there were street lamps and other lights nearby, he could also see the car windows and windshield were being drowned in water. But the man in the driver's seat of the stationary car was gray haired and possibly around Jack's age. His haircut seemed to give the vibe of military but not overly so, possibly retired not active or maybe just a style choice. Suddenly, the silver haired man was shoving his mate and Jack saw he was outside of the car, in the pouring rain with no umbrella but arms full of a pizza box staring at the roof of the dark sedan. His mate turned in place and Jack was again staring at the glaring ugliness that the Goa'uld favored for transport and dwellings.

Jack reached into his nearby pack and pulled out a pencil and small notebook and jotted down what he could remember of the vision, realizing he once again did not see to see anything helpful. Knowing that his mate ate pizza with pepperoni and some kind of meat and sat in cars in the rain with older men while he did so was not going to be of any help to the search program. If he didn't know any better, he would think his mate was deliberately doing things to make it hard to find him!

 

                 

               Jack O'Neill and Martouf after escaping Netu                       Tony eating pizza in Gibbs' car (Jack sees pizza and Gibbs)

 

* * *

 

Jack sat on his dock at his Minnesota cabin, his fishing rod in the water, Teal'c in the house behind him preparing for his first try at fishing. Of course, Jack knew they wouldn't catch anything, the lake wasn't stocked with any fish, but it would be enjoyable, down time, just relaxing and almost like a mediation. He thinks Teal'c would like that with all his kel'no'reem stuff that he does all the time. It just involves water and fresh air instead of candles and sitting on the floor.

Jack hoped Teal'c would take his time because he had been getting the signal that a vision was oncoming and didn't want to freak the big guy out. Okay, so he didn't want to freak himself out knowing his team mate had seen him in a vision black out. It had been years but Jack still couldn't get past the memories of classmates in middle and high school being teased if they didn't make it to the Quiet Room in time for a vision. For that matter, people at the Air Force Academy were hazed when it happened to them there. Jack decided to just go with it. He knew Teal'c would, well not exactly understand since he didn't go through it, but he would deduce what was going on and would sympathize and not mention it. Most likely, he would just go back inside and time it so that he came out after the ten minutes had passed and would never mention coming out earlier. Teal'c was cool that way.

Jack was pondering the depth of his team mate's heart when he no longer saw the sparkling waters of his favorite lake but instead saw what appeared to be a backyard. His mate was peering around the side of a building, possibly a house. Then suddenly his mate was falling towards the ground, an open cell phone on the ground beside him, not moving. The screen simply had a timer for the length of the call on it, no names or phone numbers. And his mate wasn't moving though the vision had not stopped. Which meant that he had not just witnessed his mate's death, thank God, but he had obviously seen his mate get knocked unconscious. If it was just a fall, tripping over something, his mate would be back on his feet by now, or at least moving around. All Jack could see was what was in front of his mate's eyes, not counting the eyelids. If a mate was unconscious or asleep, the vision showed what the eyes would see if the mate was awake. In this case, the open cell phone whose screen had now gone dark, brownish-reddish bricks set in a patio and in the near distance, landscaped bushes and a wooden fence, stained a dark color and small trees in pots.

Once again, it was going to be of absolutely no help in finding his mate unless he woke up soon. It was getting truly frustrating. He understood so well his mother's words so many years ago when she told her own story that she had gotten so incredibly lucky. Unfortunately, Jack wasn't having any luck, except bad luck! Jack hoped his mate was alright.

Seeing a vision from an unconscious mate was disconcerting but at least his mate still had his eyes. Jack recalled the history lessons about punishment for serious though not capital crimes in medieval times and earlier. The criminal, who sometimes was simply an unfortunate who had powerful enemies, would have their eyes completely removed from their head. Gouged out. If they survived the procedure and the likely infection of its aftermath, they knew their mate would never be able to find them unless through sheer luck. The criminal would see their visions as normal but their mate would see only blackness. Not the black and gray storm clouds that would signal a dead mate but just pure blackness. The only way for a mate to find them after that was to literally stumble over them in ordinary life. The blind one couldn't exactly go on a search. It was considered the ultimate punishment for crimes, death usually only considered if the criminal had already met their mate. To have to live with knowing your mate could never find you was an excruciating thing.

_It was something different to simply give up on meeting your mate. It hurt but in a very different way,_ Jack mused as he saw the bushes move in a little breeze. _When I was on Edora with Laira, I had given up completely that they would ever find me. Or at least, I figured it would be years and years before they could get a ship to me. I never thought they would be able to get the Stargate to work again, buried as deeply as it was. I gave up. That's why I gave in to Laira. I figured why not take what happiness I could since I would never find my mate in this lifetime. I had done it with Sara, I could start another family with Laira and live happily enough. Plenty of people live without their mates and I could certainly fall in love with her in time. She was a wonderful woman. And then they came and I was so conflicted. I had just given up all hope and suddenly, it all changed again. Emotional roller coaster, ya think?_

_And Carter – she acted so odd, I don't know why – now I'm lying even to myself. I do know why. Carter is so strong in so many ways and yet she is incredibly vulnerable to romantic feelings and I am so lonely and she is so beautiful inside and out that I use her. I won't step over that line and sleep with her, though the temptation is definitely there. I flirt, I tease, I don't think about how she is feeling even though I know she has given up on her soul's mate ever reaching puberty alive. I just use her to make myself feel better about not finding my mate. I do care about her, more than I should. I wasn't lying in that Tok'ra zatarc truth detector thing. And if I let myself go down that road, I could love her so easily and then break her heart if I ever get a vision that actually leads to me finding my mate. But the truth is I haven't given up on him._

_I care about my entire team more than a commander should. In so many ways and on so many levels we are so much_ more  _than a simple team. And if it had been either of the others behind that barrier, my answer would have been the same when called on it in that room._

_If it had been Teal'c, I would haven't been able to leave behind my fellow warrior, my friend, the rock that I hold to when this all overwhelms me. In truth, T should be the team leader, he has the experience but it could never happen. He's an alien, a Jaffa, and the powers that be would never trust him to put us first._

_And Daniel, lord, Doctor Daniel Jackson, my best friend. I know I've been treating him like shit lately and I know why, too. And I know he doesn't understand why. It is like the problem with Carter, only my reaction is the exact opposite. I'm so strongly attracted to him, he's gorgeous on the outside and his mind and soul must be simply breathtaking, glowing. I want to take Daniel to bed just as much, if not more ,as I want to have Carter there. But it wouldn't be fair to him just like it wouldn't be fair to her. Granted, his career wouldn't be destroyed if it got out, though we would both take lots of flak about the same sex thing when we aren't mates, but he is so sensitive and has been through so much, I can't hurt him. Yet, I know the way I have been pushing him away and acting like he is nothing_ is  _hurting him. But, I can't do anything different._

  _When I was in that godforsaken time loop thanks to that archeologist and the careless Ancients, Daniel made it clear that there were no consequences until the final loop. Everything would reset everyday. And I used that fact. I didn't just play golf through the wormhole or make pottery. I was a complete and utter ass. I made out with Carter, in front of everyone in the gate control room, no less. And Daniel – damn it, damn me for a complete bastard, I did more than that. I stopped myself from going all the way, though I did find out that he feels the same attraction that I do and he_ would _have let me. But damn, I still can't get the taste of his cock out of my mind, some days it is all I can do to not invite him over for beer and hockey and repeat the experience. But I know I can't and if I treat him like I do Carter and flirt and – I know we would end up in bed and he would be hurt down the line. He's been hurt enough._

  _I need to sit both of them down and have a talk. Separately! Let them know what I am thinking and feeling, at least to an extent. Maybe even confess my sins committed on them during the looping to each of them. Almost certainly to Daniel, he deserves that much and he'll understand eventually and get over it and call me on my bullshit when it starts again, because I know myself well enough to know that it will. I really should have these conversations and clear things up but I don't know if I will._

_I'm still so angry with them sometimes. They believed so easily that I had turned to the dark side. That I was a traitor. At least, they seemed to. Every time I dwell on this I wonder. Daniel's face when he said they drew straws … it was odd, suspicious, and if anyone of them would figure out it was a trap, a sting, would know me well enough to predict what was happening, it would be him. But they didn't say anything until it was all over. But I don't know what they were saying to each other or to themselves while I was gone. And I know they felt betrayed because I didn't tell them but – damn it, round and round I go. This is something I need to talk to Danny about if I do sit down with him to have that talk. I need to explain and I need him to explain or things are going to get worse and I can't afford that. I need my best friend._

_And I know, I know,_ Jack agonized as he no longer saw bricks but instead the familiar waters of the lake, _I haven't always supported him. I can never forget him in that padded room, crying. I didn't push for another explanation until is was obvious when he got better and Teal'c got sick. I hate myself for that. We need to talk. And I will, when we get back from this vacation and he is back from the funeral of his old mentor, I'll talk to him about things and to Carter, too. I will!_

 

       

Jack O'Neill fishing at his cabin in Minnesota                                     Tony DiNozzo unconscious in Gibbs' backyard

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Jack is sitting in his base office, having hurried there after the viewing and discussion about the ridiculous science fiction show coming out, Wormhole X-Treme!, and how to deal with it. He had hurried to his office and locked the door because he had been feeling the vision pangs during the briefing and did not want to get caught with his pants down so to speak. He leaned back in his chair behind the desk piled with unfinished paperwork and hoped his mate never saw that show. It was so obviously based on his team and he knew his mate might realize that, depending on what he had seen in his vision's of Jack's life. For all Jack knew, his mate never saw a single mission but only him at home or on base but he also knew that was highly unlikely.

If his mate recognized events from this show, he might think Jack was as much an idiot as the guy on the show. And Jack knew that his mate liked television, he had plenty of visions of him watching it but maybe he only liked older shows, not new ones. Jack could only hope.

Jack's vision of the concrete walls of his office faded to a view of a restaurant interior. There were tables and brown leather-like booths with wooden carvings along the top of them. There were pictures of what looked like Asian myths on the walls. His mate was walking towards a table in the middle of the room, following a waiter. He sat down and looked at his companion who sat next to him, a woman, in her twenties, it seemed to Jack, with long dark blonde hair and a flowered dress and weird pendant necklace. She sat next to him rather than across the table. Jack's mate turned back to the waiter and took the menu and opened it, too quickly for Jack to see the front cover. Jack looked over the entrees and realized this was an Indian restaurant. His mate seemingly said something to the waiter and he left, taking the menus with him.

Jack watched as his mate looked around the restaurant, Jack not seeing anything that was very distinguishing. His mate turned back to the woman and Jack realized as his mate turned his head that his mate was now wearing glasses. He never had before, that Jack could recall but now it was unmistakeable. Jack could see the frames in the peripheral vision. They were a dark color, probably black.

His mate reached forward and he was holding hands with the woman! His mate, this wasn't a business meeting, his mate was on a date. He held hands with the woman for a while and suddenly jumped, jerked his arm and his water glass spilled, right into his mate's lap.  _Good_ , thought Jack. His mate was wiping himself down and rose, Jack supposed to go to the restroom to clean up, he walked towards the front of the restaurant and Jack was back in his own body.

_He was on a date! A date! He's_ my mate _! And he's on a date with some floozy, some random woman. And she isn't even all that good looking. I mean, she's not a dog, but he's my mate, he could obviously do better than her! Wait a minute! I don't want him to do better, I want him to do worse – me! I mean, damn it! He's_ mine!

Jack took a deep breath to calm himself down. He realized he was being a compete and total hypocrite but he hated the thought of his mate dating some woman. Even though Jack himself had more than dated. Jack had  _married_ and had a  _family_ with a woman, something that Jack is now realizing may have hurt his mate if he had seen visions of Jack with Sara and Charlie. Maybe his mate had given up on him and was trying to find what happiness he could. Jack understood that drive but he hated it. He didn't want his mate to find happiness with someone else. Jack was trying to find him, damn it! His mate just wasn't making it easy.

_I think it must have been a first date, he was so nervous he knocked over his water. Either that, or he's a klutz. I've never seen any evidence of that before. I mean he was an athlete. But – well, most of the vision last year he had been knocked unconscious and who knows how long he was down for, it could have had lasting effects on his brain, like Mohammed Ali. Or something. Or he's just nervous because he's on a date with some witch who isn't his_ mate!

_I wonder what he's seen of my life? I mean, the whole system of mate searches here at the mountain was because we figured he was seeing my missions. We assumed that. And he probably has seen several of them. But I never thought to wonder what he saw of my life_ before _I joined the SGC. What does he think of me? Does he know how often I've come close to dying, to making him the older of the pair in this mate bond? Has he seen any times where I've come close or actually died? Did he know somehow when I died when the Nox brought me back? Does he think I have a death wish? That I don't care about him? Don't want him? That I'm not trying to find him? Did he see me on missions when I was regular special ops? I never even wondered before. Man, you are stupid, dense, O'Neill! What must he think of me?_

_I wonder, does he somehow know when I nearly die? Or do? I mean, I suppose I could have Carter or someone research it since people die everyday and come back with CPR and heart massage and stuff. Do their mates know somehow? Before they bond? If they are not having a vision at that instant? I mean, I never knew my mate died originally until the death vision with the storm clouds but could he know somehow? Since I haven't_ stayed _dead? Does it matter? Nope!_

_Ya think, O'Neill, ya moron! You're just trying not to think about your mate on a date!_

 

__

Jack O'Neill bored in briefing                                      Tony DiNozzo on a fake date

* * *

 

 

Jack sat in his office, his head bent over a file on his desk. He knew that his team teased him about his paperwork and not reading the briefing introductions and mission logs. But he did read them. He didn't always understand the full minutiae of what he read but he could generally grasp the scope, the overall idea in what he read.

He may play up being the dumb grunt but he  _was_ ABD in military and strategic studies. If he ever got the chance, he planned on actually writing that dissertation and submitting it to the SGC academic program. It allowed soldiers and scientists to use the work they did at the SGC to get credentials that they otherwise would be unable to get due to the national security and secrecy surrounding their work. He knew for a fact that both Carter and Daniel had taken advantage of the program and gained additional doctorates. The program also published journals and dissertations available to those with the appropriate security clearance so if the SGC ever went public, the correct people would get the correct credit for the work they did.

It had been launched after several scientists complained to Carter about not being able to publish their work or gain their doctorates. She went to Daniel and they worked up the idea into a concrete workable program, using instructors from various military academies as well as peer review by members of the SGC. It had launched around the end of the second year of the SGC's existence and had granted many degrees, both masters and PhDs in the years since its inception. Its existence was enough to lure some academics to the SGC, those who wanted the validation and couldn't get it elsewhere because their theories (like Daniel's with the pyramids) were too controversial or ahead of their time.

Right now, Jack was wading through a memo about a planet SG-1 would visit in a month's time. They had just gotten back from the horrible mission with the sentinel on Latona. Jack truly hated the Goa'uld and the NID, almost in equal measure at times. And now, this mission would be a first contact with a relatively advanced race, though not as advanced as the Tollan or the Nox, or even as advanced as Earth. But definitely advanced when compared to somewhere like Cimmeria or the Land of Light. They had been able to make contact using the MALP and arrange a face-to-face meeting for the future where they would meet the government and tours the science facilities. The people had found the gate a few decades ago but had no idea what it was until the MALP came through. Now they were excited to be able to meet with other planets, though they had no gate addresses at this point.

The planet was designated as P2S-4C3 in the mission log. Even after all of these years, Jack still couldn't understand why they couldn't just name the damn planets rather than use the obscure numbering system. The people they were talking to said they lived in Kelowna. That was so much easier to say, not to mention easier to remember. But, it was what it was. P2S-4C3 would be a diplomatic mission, first contact. Carter's briefing notes said that there was an element there that could be beneficial for trade if the basics the Kelownans had given them proved true.

Jack's eyes were crossing as Carter's memo went on for pages about the possible scientific merits of the element and its potential uses based on nothing but a fairly vague description offered by a scientist as inducement to come see their planet and trade with them. Jack could have understood the length and breadth of the memo if Carter had actual facts but it was entirely speculative and he wished he had a stamp he could plop across it that read, “Don't count your chickens before they're hatched!” in big red letters. He would then send it back to her and maybe she would learn a lesson, though Jack doubted it.

Jack sat back in his chair and pushed the memo away. He got the gist of it and it wasn't overly relevant right now anyway with its speculation. He would pay more attention once Carter had actual facts and not pie in the sky hopes and dreams to drool over. Besides, he had been feeling that itchy, prickly feeling that he knew so well. It wouldn't be long until his next vision. As always, Jack truly hoped this would be it, the vision that gave him the necessary knowledge to find his soul's mate. Though with every useless vision, Jack lost a bit more hope. Regardless, it wasn't like Jack could stop the visions from happening, whether he thought they would be useful or useless. So, Jack reclined in his chair, head tilted down, eyes on his stomach as he waited for the moment of disorientation that came with the onset of the vision.

And it happened. Jack was staring out over a large body of water, just gazing into the distance, no land in sight. It was likely an ocean. His mate glanced down from the distant horizon and at the ocean below and Jack saw that he was seeing the wake of a large ship, his mate wasn't on land looking across the ocean, he was on the ocean, the wake was huge and the ship was moving at a good clip. His mate rubbed his arms and looked at his feet. He was wearing boots and jeans with a light colored shirt. It looked like it might be a polo shirt and a long sleeved white shirt below the shorter sleeves he could glimpse at the corner of the eye. His mate returned his gaze to the water as the ship churned it up as it passed by. Jack was fearing this would be a fairly useless vision like most of the rest when his mate's gaze left the water and he turned around revealing the ship he was on. Jack recognized it! Well, not the exact ship's name but he recognized that his mate was on an air craft carrier! And he recognized the planes on the deck. They were definitely American jets! This might actually be it. This might actually be the vision that was useful and provided enough information to find his mate. As Jack's heart jumped in excitement he was in his office once more.

With no hesitation but plenty of anxiety, Jack picked up his phone and called Daniel asking him to meet him in Carter's lab. He then called Carter and made sure she wasn't too occupied before telling her he is coming down and asking her to ask Teal'c to meet them. He then hung up the phone and hurriedly left his office for Carter's lab, several levels down.

When he arrived, his team was assembled. They looked at him in curiosity.

“What is it that you need from us, O'Neill?” asked Teal'c.

Jack breathed in deeply, his heart was beating fast and he was trying not to breathe as if he just ran a marathon. “I just had a vision. And I think this might be enough! At first I thought it would be a typical fairly disappointing one like usual until nearly the end. He was looking out at the ocean, on a big ship, seeing the wake behind it. Then he turned around and I saw the ship he was on.”

“Did you see the name of the ship, sir? Was it a cruise ship?” queried Carter.

“No, he was on a carrier. A United States air craft carrier! The planes on the deck were most definitely American F-14s.”

Carter turned to her computer and opened the search program and Jack's entries, adding in the information, “currently serving on American aircraft carrier” to the list. The search returned 1800 hits that matched all the input criteria from previously and the new one. Jack looked over her shoulder and groaned.

“Jack,” interjected Daniel, “did you happen to see his uniform at all. That could narrow it down.”

Jack's head came up, excited in his realization. “He wasn't wearing a uniform. He was in jeans and a polo shirt and no one gave him odd looks when he turned around and I could see other people around. Who doesn't wear a uniform on a carrier?”

“The Agent Afloat is the most obvious, assuming he isn't just a visitor,” replied Carter.

“No, Carter. He didn't get any odd looks at all. Everyone on that flight deck knew who he was and that he belonged there. He must be the Agent Afloat on a carrier.”

When Carter input this new information, the search narrowed itself down to one name. “There is only a single hit with the correct age and birthday window, sir. Special Agent Anthony Devon DiNozzo, currently serving as Agent Afloat aboard the USS Ronald Reagan.”

“What can you tell me about him, Carter?”

“You need to breathe, Colonel. Granted, this man seems to be it but there could be anomalies in the data, you know that. But it is highly likely that you've found him, sir. Congratulations,” she smiled lightly at him.

Jack thanked her and waited while she typed, looking for the information he had requested. Daniel came over and put his hand on Jack's shoulder and Teal'c moved to stand nearby, lending his aura of calm to his friend and team commander. Finally, Carter looked up and read off the screen.

“Anthony Devon DiNozzo, more commonly known as Tony. Born July 8, 1971 in Long Island, New York to Anthony DiNozzo, Sr and Elizabeth Victoria DiNozzo nee Paddington. Mother died when he was 8, after which he attended boarding schools and eventually Rhode Island Military Academy. He went on to a full athletic scholarship to Ohio State University, where he played both basketball and football. He was being scouted by pro teams until he badly broke his leg in a football game his senior year. He graduated magna cum laude in 1993 with a major in Physical Education and a second major in Criminology, it looks like it was a minor at first until junior year when he started taking the maximum amount of classes for both lines to turn it into a major. While presumably undergoing physical therapy for his leg, he gained a Masters degree in Criminology in 1995 from Indiana State University. Then, he attended the Peoria Police Academy in 1996 and joined the force in Peoria as a patrol officer, working traffic and then vice. In 1998, he left Peoria and joined the Philadelphia police department where he quickly rose to the rank of detective, one of the youngest ever to receive a gold shield, and worked in vice and narcotics for four months and then something else but it is under secrecy cover, I'd have to dig deeper to get to it. After a year and a half in Philadelphia, he transferred to Baltimore as a homicide detective. Then in 2001, he left Baltimore, attended FLETC and joined NCIS, immediately gaining a spot on the Major Case Response Team in Washington, DC, under Senior Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Within a year, he was made Senior Field Agent and remained on the MCRT until Leon Vance transferred him to the Reagan as Agent Afloat two and a half months ago. I could get more info if I dug a little more, sir. There are a lot of questions here.” Carter frowned at the screen.

“No, Carter. I'm fine with this. Anything further, I would rather he tell me himself. This is all public information, any deeper and it will feel like stalking. Now, I just have to figure out how to get to the Reagan.”

“Jack,” interrupted Daniel, “why don't you have General Hammond speak with Director – was it Vance?” He looked to Carter, who nodded at him, confirming his memory. “Director Vance and have Agent DiNozzo brought to the DC office. It will be a lot easier to get you both to there than you to a carrier. Plus after seven years stationed there, it is familiar territory for him and should help him feel more comfortable with all of this.”

Jack nodded. “Good idea, Daniel. Let's get this done.”

“And we will accompany you and lend you our moral support, O'Neill.” Teal'c cocked his head to the side, seeming to dare Jack to object.

Jack took the dare but only grumbled lowly, “I don't need a bunch of babysitters,” causing his teammates to grin at each other and then smile benevolently on him.

 

     

 Jack O'Neill and Sam Carter a few weeks before Meridian                              Tony DiNozzo on carrier as agent afloat

 

* * *

 

 

Jack stood inside what he privately called a giant pumpkin and looked down on the desks below. Several of them were occupied with people working hard at their computers but those in the center of the floor were all empty. Not empty as in not being used, thought Jack, but their owners were out, probably on a case, all things considered.

The team was waiting a nearby conference room but Jack needed to be active. He paced back and forth along the mezzanine above the office area, occasionally stopping to grab onto the railing and take deep breaths, tying to be positive and optimistic that the search program was correct and Tony DiNozzo was his soul's mate. Jack didn't know if he could handle the disappointment if they had gotten one of the search parameters wrong and it was someone else. Not to mention the embarrassment for Agent DiNozzo, having been called back to DC on a wild goose chase.

_And what if he doesn't want to be with me? How are we going to handle that? And what if he_ does _want to fully bond? How will things work? I can't leave the SGC. It's too important. We could get him on a gate team, I guess. Or what if he doesn't want to leave NCIS? What if he wants me to transfer to DC or somewhere? I suppose we could get him assigned as an NCIS agent to the mountain. NCIS deals with the Marines as well as the Navy and we have plenty of jarheads around. That's an idea. If this all works out at all and this isn't some more nonsense where I got it wrong. I'll never live it down, Daniel will never let it go if this guy, after all this, if Tony isn't my mate._

Jack turned and walked back along the mezzanine once more, his dress uniform drawing the eyes of some of those below to this obviously worried Air Force Colonel. No one knew why he was there, even Director Vance had not been told the true reason, as Jack did not want his mate to be embarrassed or feel uncomfortable.

Jack had just made another turn back towards the entrance to MTAC when the elevator dinged behind him and he spun around as its doors opened and a man walked out, looking tired and worried. The man raised his eyes to meet Jack's as he was walking towards the Director's office and came to an abrupt halt. Jack's breath caught in his throat as golden lights, invisible to everyone but he and this man, swirled around them and from two mouths came a single word, “Mate.”

 

Jack's first sight of Tony


	11. Tony's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Cover Art by penumbria

* * *

 

Jack O'Neill had what many would consider an idyllic childhood with parents who loved one another and their children, a grandfather who cared for and mentored him, a devoted sister who adored her over protective big brother, good friends and a quaint small town atmosphere with the only true angst being mild and self-inflicted and quickly processed and dealt with. Granted, later in life O'Neill had very hard times and learned true sorrow but his beginnings gave him the foundation he needed to meet his trials and overcome them. But even in a world filled with soul mates, not everyone is as lucky as Jack O'Neill. Jack's soul's mate, Tony DiNozzo had a much more difficult start in life and it informed his later character and behavior. Now read Tony's story and how he came to the point where Jack met him on the mezzanine of the NCIS headquarters in Washington, DC.

* * *

Anthony DiNozzo married Elizabeth Victoria Paddington in March of 1970. They were not soul mates, Elizabeth's family was from a very old, very distinguished line of English nobility. Her particular branch of the family had fallen on hard times over the past couple of generations and were looking for a way to improve their fortunes, rather than be the poor relations of the more well-off branch which held the title.

Anthony DiNozzo was the grandson of a Guiseppe DiNozzo, a self-made man who made a fortune selling insurance in Europe at the turn of the century before immigrating to America and investing his earnings in the stock market. He had used his new found wealth to buy real estate around the country before the stock market crash. During the Depression, he joined forces with another well-off Italian immigrant family and founded a trucking company. They soon grew, with the help of various gangsters and their breaking the law of Prohibition, into a multi-state transportation company. After the end of Prohibition, they were still so well established that they took the company entirely legit and grew even further. Guiseppe's son, Salvatore, branched the business from trucking into air freight and soon the company was international. By the time Salvatore died and his son Antonio took over the company, it was a multi-million dollar enterprise. Antonio disliked his immigrant background and after his father's death he changed his name to Anthony and insisted on the American pronunciation of his surname. Anthony was desperate to be seen as more than a rich Dago by his peers.

Thus came together two families who needed what the other brought to the table. Anthony, whose soul's mate was still under the age of puberty, wanted the prestige of the Paddington name and history. The Paddington's wanted access to the DiNozzo fortune and company. It was a match made in the pocketbook. Elizabeth was given no choice, either she marry Anthony DiNozzo or she would be cast out to fend for herself, and as she had no marketable skills beyond being a debutante, Elizabeth caved in to the familial pressure, abandoning her chance at finding her mate and marrying the rich Italian American and moving to his estate on Long Island.

The two newlyweds got on well enough but Elizabeth, a fairly romantic young woman, pined for the mate she saw in her visions. One day, she actually met him and the bonding occurred. But Anthony refused to release her from her wedding vows and would not grant his wife of only seven months a divorce. Elizabeth's mate left in the hopes of making enough money to support his mate and Elizabeth fell into a depression. Anthony, a man with a severe temper, declared that he didn't care if she had a mate and that she was his wife. He forced his wife to service his needs and sometime during that month filled with what was technically, though not legally at the time, rape, they conceived a child.

When he realized his wife was pregnant, Anthony ceased his assaults on her and began looking for mistresses. Elizabeth was glad that her state caused her husband to leave her but she resented the child growing within her for not being the child of her mate. When she was nearly at full term in her pregnancy, she reached her vision time, which of course would not occur as she had met and primarily bonded but when the time came, instead of feeling the warmth of the bond, she felt emptiness. She realized her mate was dead and the shock sent her into labor.

The labor was long and hard and damaged Elizabeth internally but eventually she bore a son. Her husband insisted on his name being Anthony after himself but Elizabeth insisted on adding a middle name to refer to her heritage. Anthony like this idea and told her it could not be Paddington but otherwise, he would allow her the privilege of choosing the name and she did, tongue-in-cheek and with deliberate, though hidden, malice, their son was named Anthony Devon DiNozzo, after his father who raped his mother, and for the mate she had lost, who had been named for the county in England where he had been born.

As young Anthony grew from infant to toddler to child, his mother fell to alcohol and sleeping pills to forget her pain. Elizabeth often lost herself in alcoholic delusions and treated her son like a doll, dressing him in sailor suits, to echo the occupation of her lost mate. She would often murmur to her young son that though she couldn't have the sailor she loved, her little man made a fine replica. She would usually call him Devon and pet his head at these times.

Anthony, Sr still wanted his wife's society connections and would force her to parties and high society get togethers where she would showcase her talent on the piano, a suitable skill for a woman of refinement. As her son grew, she taught him the piano and would bring her lovely little sailor boy out to perform for her society friends.

When Anthony, Jr was eight, Elizabeth overdosed on pills and gin, her drink of choice, and died. Anthony, Sr was on a business trip at the time and Anthony, Jr found her and stayed with her body through the night until he called the police in the morning, not wanting to disturb them during the night.

When Anthony, Sr returned, he buried his wife without remorse and returned to work, leaving his son to the care of a newly hired governess. Within two months, his father had returned and fired the woman for coddling the boy when he discovered him painting in the garden. He thrashed his young son, telling him DiNozzos weren't pansies and didn't paint or play music! The young boy cried at the beating and was only thrashed harder, being told “DiNozzos don't cry!”

The angry man soon fell to the same vice that his wife had fallen to when he had his own yearly vision and discovered his mate had died again. She had reached puberty two years before and the senior DiNozzo had easily found out who she was, though he had not gone to meet her. However, evidently she had seen him in her visions with Elizabeth and Anthony, Jr and decided he wouldn't want her when he had a happy family already and killed herself, leaving a note explaining herself.

Anthony, Sr took to alcohol, though his drink of choice was scotch. He would send for his son, whom he blamed for his mate's death, and interrogate him about his day after forcing him to serve him his drink. Then he would verbally berate him, telling him he was worthless and evil and that his birth was a burden and that he had caused his mother to die to get away from him. When his drink was empty, he would strip his son and use his belt's buckle end to thrash him bloody before calling for his valet to take the boy away and clean him up.

Sometimes, the older man would use his fists if he had been drinking before his son came to him. By the time he was nine years old, almost a year after his mother's death, he had been to the private clinic that his father funded seven times, three for broken arms, once for a concussion that caused him to lose consciousness for over half an hour, and three times for stitches to his back or head. Whenever the abused child would cry or pass out from the pain, his father would smack him harder, usually across the face and tell him sternly, “DiNozzos don't cry! DiNozzos don't pass out! You are useless, boy!”

A year after Elizabeth DiNozzo's death, which everyone outside the family believed was due to the influenza, Anthony, Sr re-married. The woman was another high society woman, this time a Bostonian, whose family had fallen on hard times. Sylvia, however, was cut from a very different cloth from Anthony's first wife. She was hard and mercenary, her family had not forced her to marry the wealthy man. And she set to work as soon as the honeymoon was over on getting the reminder of Anthony's first marriage out of the house. Hating his son as he did, Anthony, Sr was glad to send his nine year old child to boarding school.

As soon as he was away from the oppressive home on Long Island, and attending the strict Rhode Island Military Academy, Anthony, Jr insisted everyone call him Tony. He wanted as few reminders of his father in his day to day life as possible. Tony did well in school, being a fairly bright boy and made friends easily though never letting them close. As Tony approached puberty, he attended the classes about soul mates that were required by law. He felt them to be entirely ridiculous as he was sure the whole idea was a fiction created for gullible children, along the lines of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy, none of which had ever visited the DiNozzo estate. He kept his cynicism to himself and learned the material presented, not wanting to be mean to his fellow students whom Tony considered fairly naive, but he never really accepted that some day he would actually have visions of someone who was his soul's perfect match.

After seeing his mother and his father and his new step-mother, Tony had no belief in love, just money. He wished deep inside that it was all true but whenever those thoughts rose within his conscious mind, Tony ruthlessly squashed them. Thoughts like those were for the weak and DiNozzos were not weak pansies. In the course of a year, Anthony, Sr had beaten the artist out of his son and beaten his own rules into him.

One week, the January after Tony's 12 th birthday, he was moving restlessly in his seat as his temperature soared. The instructor recognized the boy's symptoms and sent him to the nurse who place him in the Academy's version of a Quiet Room, a small closet with barely enough room for a growing boy to sit with his legs stretched out and two small cushions with a box of tissues in a corner. As Tony's ten minute hot flash ended, he realized his penis was hard and his mind flashed to his soul mate classes. He brushed it off and decided it was a coincidence and left the closet when he could stand up. When he emerged, the nurse told him he was to report here every day for the next week at this time, his instructor and his house monitor had been informed.

That night while in his bed in his dormitory, he listened to the eleven other boys as they snored or snuffled in their sleep. And Tony thought about what he remembered about soul mates. The instructors were taking this seriously, he had a pass to go to the infirmary for a week with the time noted on it already. He realized that it all must be true. In a week he would see a vision through someone else's eyes. He would have a clue to finding someone who would love him unconditionally. The thought put the first crack in the wall he had placed around himself when his mother died and his father began beating him. He fell asleep to the thought that maybe life wasn't just filled with hardship but maybe good things could happen, too.

Six days later, Tony sat in that darkened closet, cross-legged so he could fit more comfortably, barely noticing the tingles that accompanied the onset of a vision, his pain threshold being incredibly high after his time with his father both in the year after his mother's death and in the summer and winter school vacations since. Tony always hoped his father would be on a business trip or a honeymoon trip during those times but he rarely was, though he was now on his third marriage in as many years. His father still took great pleasure in beating his son bloody and unconscious whenever he saw him and after he started boarding school, his father had now taken to humiliating him in public as well, like when he forced Tony to attend Civil War re-enactments and carry the bucket the men used to go to the bathroom in. Anthony encouraged his fellow “soldiers” to call his son “little-poo-boy”. Or last summer when Anthony took Tony on a business trip to Hawaii only to abandon the boy in the hotel and return to Long Island alone, claiming he forgot about him.

Tony tried not to dwell on his father more than he had to. He had spent his free time over the last week re-reading all the material on soul mates and visions that he could get his hands on so he was prepared for what he would see. He hoped it would be useful but with his luck would consider it a good vision if he saw something other than clouds of any kind.

Suddenly, Tony got his wish. He no longer saw the inside of the closet door but rather long arms wearing muddy green fatigues and hands holding a rifle sideways in front of his eyes. The arms and presumably the body they were attached to were inching forward through what seemed to be thick vegetation, possibly a jungle, possibly a thick forest. The ground is muddy and his mate crawls through mud puddles keeping the rifle above the mud level but sometimes splashing it up into the eyes. When this happened, the forward motion would halt for a few moments and the muddy forearm would wipe itself across the eyes until they were cleared enough to see. Then the slow movement forward would resume. For ten minutes, this progression was all that Tony saw. Then he was back, seeing once more the inside of the tiny closet.

Tony leaned back against the wall and brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He was surprised. Those arms and hands had not belonged to a girl. Or even a woman. No woman had wrists that thick. Or forearms that hairy, Tony mused, as Tony had seen when the sleeve had ridden up when wiping the eyes free of mud. His mate was a man. Evidently, already a fully grown man. The research and reading Tony had recently done came to mind and he realized that he himself must be that man's re-born soul's mate. They were too far apart in age for it to be otherwise. There was no way those arms and hands belonged to a teenage boy. Tony wasn't sure how much older his mate was than him but he was obviously in the military. That was no fake rifle. Being in military school, Tony knew his guns, even at his relatively young age. And that did not seem like a training exercise. His mate was a grown up man in the army or some branch of the military, at least. Tony supposed it could be a militia but those fatigues looked real and Tony just got the feeling that his mate was real military.

Tony was oddly pleased. He was shocked that his mate wasn't a woman like in the magazines the other cadets passed around on the sly, but reflecting on the matter, Tony was happy. His mate was a man, a military man, a tough, fully-grown military man. He could take care of Tony and protect him. Keep him safe and give him a home where he could be himself. Tony smiled. He guessed he was gay, or bisexual, Tony thought chuckling quietly, thinking of his liking for those contraband magazines. Yes, Tony was glad that this soul's mate thing was real and very pleased with the outcome of it. 

 

Tony DiNozzo as a child

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Tony lounged in an out-of-the-way storeroom, his back against a wall, surrounded by stacks of cardboard boxes filled with toilet paper and paper towels. His legs were bent at the knee and his right arm rested across them as he waited for his newest vision to start. This would be his fifth vision and after his second, he no longer used the uncomfortable closet that the academy provided as a Quiet Room. He had learned from older cadets of several secluded spots around campus that could be used for this purpose and other purposes not spoken of as openly. During the daytime, these spots were only used for vision time. After darkness fell, and especially after curfew and the first bed check but before the second, well, secluded spots were more often used by couples engaged in a more intimate activity.

Tony's current location was in a building on the edge of the football fields. He preferred this spot because it was close to the locale of his victories on the field. It brought him to calmness more easily than a spot inside a classroom or dorm building. The locker rooms were just around the corner from the room he now occupied and he spent so much of his time in this building that it seemed more like home than any other.

Tony's life had not been particularly easy or difficult since his first vision occurred. He had learned a valuable lesson during the months following it. Tony had not told anyone about the contents of his vision and when questioned, he always said things to suggest that his mate was too young for Tony to actually see anything. He considered the whole thing private and even if he had been inclined to boast, the sight of one of his fellow cadets (who had trusted the wrong person with information about his vision) getting a blanket party thrown in his honor every night for over a month because his mate was male, was enough to show Tony that his fellow cadets could not be trusted with the truth. Said abused cadet had eventually transferred out of RIMA and if anyone had kept in touch, they didn't share that bit of information.

From everything Tony had seen over his years at the military academy, cadets considered it fine to jerk each other off or to exchange blow jobs, as long as it was completely reciprocal at the moment it happened. It was also acceptable for an older cadet to take on a younger as his toy. They called it an honor and referred to the boys in public as cadet mentorees, but the reality was that they were boys who couldn't or wouldn't stand up for themselves and they sexually serviced the older cadet who “mentored” them, usually keeping them safe from gang bangs and harassment by other cadets. It was usually the youngest and prettiest of the boys who were chosen for this “honor”.

Tony himself had been approached several times in his first two years at RIMA but had no desire to be “mentored” in this way and showed his value by sending those who thought to force him away with bloody noses, sore heads and often aching balls from his booted feet. Tony had been small when he began school but he was strong, scrappy and unwilling to suffer abuse at his classmates hands. His high pain tolerance allowed him to keep up his fight when other boys his age would have been down for the count.

This was all usual and accepted behavior for an all male military academy boarding school. It didn't make them gay or anything. But to like being in the submissive spot, to enjoy jerking another boy off, or giving a blow job was a crime to the cadets. And God protect those poor unfortunates who took pleasure in being used by a mentor. Rather than being protected they were passed around like candy to friends of the mentor, or used by him as currency. And if you were found to have a male mate, an obvious indicator that you were gay, then you would find yourself beaten nightly and sometimes gang raped for this ultimate, horrific crime. Over his years, Tony had seen it happen to three boys, only one of whom escaped being raped and all of whom were gone from the school within a few months, usually to a hospital, never to return.

So, Tony kept the truth of his mate to himself. He didn't tell the other cadets, the instructors, the nurse, the groundskeeper, any of his father's servants and certainly none of his increasingly numerous step-mothers. Tony only told the truth once and on one hand he considered it to be one of his most foolish decisions, but on the other hand, the final outcome made him beyond glad that he had told.

The summer after his first vision, his father had confronted him and revealed that his annual report from RIMA had included the information that he had his first vision. Anthony, Sr had asked Tony for information on his mate so they could find them, if they were appropriate. Tony, accustomed and conditioned to telling his father what he wanted to know, had revealed his mate was a grown male in the military. Anthony, upset but understanding it wasn't Tony's choice, told him that since his son obviously wouldn't be able to bond with such an unworthy mate, he would arrange for an appropriate marriage when he graduated college, one that would increase the family's prestige and wealth. Then Tony made the biggest mistake, or conversely, best decision of his life. He told his father that he wasn't going to marry some society princess, he wanted to go looking for his mate when he had enough information to do so.

The older man promptly lost his temper and swung the back of his hand so hard across Tony's face that he sent him flying backwards, to lose his balance and strike his head on the edge of the heavy wooden desk. While Tony lay there dazed, his father proceeded to punch and kick him with more ferocity then he had ever shown before. When he was done, Tony was unconscious with six broken ribs, a broken collarbone, a dislocated shoulder, hairline fractures in his arms (which he had been using to protect his head), a broken nose (from before he was aware enough to cover his face), four loosened teeth, three broken fingers, bruised kidneys, and multiple soft tissue injuries. He spent two weeks in a private hospital and the rest of the summer in casts and in his room. His father officially disowned him, telling him he would pay for the rest of his time at RIMA (since to do otherwise would shame him in front of his big shot friends) but as soon as he graduated high school, he was on his own and that in Anthony's opinion, his sorry excuse for a son would end up in the gutter, servicing passing fags for twenty dollars a night.

That summer was the last that Tony spent at the DiNozzo estate in Long Island. Any further breaks during the school year were spent in the dormitory. Summer breaks were spent as a camp counselor at military summer camps associated with RIMA. This also had the advantage of earning Tony money since he no longer received an allowance from his father. It was also the last time Tony had set eyes on his father and thus, the last time his father had set his fists or belt to Tony. So, it was a mixed blessing. Tony would be completely on his own in just two years but he was no longer under his father's strict and abusive domination.

Tony enjoyed his time at RIMA for the most part. He wasn't abused when he proved to be more trouble then it was worth and once he put on a growth spurt, he found his calling in sports. He excelled at football, basketball and wasn't bad at soccer. He also loved to run. He would spend hours on the track running to fulfill his PT requirements. And his excellent performance on the field and the court earned him friends and accolades from the other cadets. He continued to get very good grades and enjoyed most of his classes.

Sometimes, Tony wondered when he saw how some of his fellow cadets were treated if he should intervene but rarely did he do so. He didn't exactly turn a blind eye but he did learn to deflect much of the harsher treatment at the time it was happening through the use of humor. He was not able to stop the abuse but he could often temper it as his antics would calm the rage of the abuser and enable the abused to escape before the worst of it or at least escape until later when tempers were not running hot.

Tony would often think of his mate and wonder if he would be proud of Tony' actions or if he would agree with the other cadets. Tony worried sometimes about his mate's reaction to Tony's gender. The M in RIMA stood for military, of course and Tony's mate was in the actual military where the attitudes and beliefs that the cadets espoused were even more prevalent, though not officially condoned. In his darkest moments, Tony despaired that his father would be right and Tony's mate would not want him because he was male and he would never find him.

Now, Tony was awaiting his latest vision. None of his previous visions showed anything that would lead to his mate's identity. All Tony had witnessed were military missions similar to the first. Twice, he had witnessed his mate kill someone. The first time he shot them from a reasonable distance in a battle type of thing, where he was surrounded by others shooting and enemies who were shooting at him. The second time, the entire vision had consisted of his mate sneaking up behind one man, Tony supposed it was a sentry or something similar, and eventually slicing his throat before breaking his neck. It had disturbed the teen greatly and though it had been a vision two years ago, Tony still had nightmares at least twice a month about it.

Tony had worked hard, reading military biographies and histories and first-hand accounts of battles and warfare to try and get past the fear and disgust that vision had caused. His mate was military and Tony had decided when he was 13 that the best way to find him and make him proud was to join the military himself. He planned to apply for West Point next year and if he failed to get in, Tony planned on enlisting and later going to Officer School. He hoped that his athletic prowess and recommendations from his instructors at a military academy would give him a leg up on getting in but he always tried to have a Plan B in his back pocket, just in case his primary plan didn't work out.

Suddenly, Tony's trip down memory lane was interrupted as he could see his mate was entering a house through the front door. Tony saw a brief glimpse of numbers on the door and though they were 1205 and the letter E or F. The door was painted a deep forest green. His mate looked down and Tony was amazed and thrilled, he had mail in his hand. There were several envelopes and a package. Unfortunately, the package was covering up most of the address of the top envelope and was upside down so its address label couldn't be seen, but Tony could make out part of the address. He could see the letter “i-r-a” then “Dr SE” and on two lines below he could see “e-r-q-u-e, NM 87108”. He repeated the information to himself three times to commit it to his memory before his mate's head came up and turned, bringing a blonde woman into his field of view. She walked up to him and embraced him and kissed him, briefly. Tony felt his heart sink a bit but pushed it away. The two proceeded down a hallway and entered a small room, the walls were painted a pale blue and it was filled with baby furniture. Tony's mate walked over to a crib and reached into it, picking up the infant laying inside who obviously cooed at him. His mate raised the infant carefully into his arms and walked to a nearby rocking chair. Tony did not have any experience with children this young but he could tell the baby was not very old. He wasn't holding his own head up which Tony knew was an early thing that babies did. His mate leaned down and pressed a kiss on the boy's forehead and the woman reached down and took the child into her arms, smiling. His mate reached up and pushed her hair back, revealing a gleaming gold ring on his left ring finger. Tony's heart completed its journey downward and sank as low as it could as the vision ended.

_He's married. At first when I saw her, I thought, or hoped she was just a girlfriend, someone to pass the time with until I grew up. I mean, he's a grown man, it would be odd and freaky and incredibly disturbing if he wanted to mate with a teenager. And a man has needs. But no, he's married, happily and has a family. That was a cute baby. And he obviously loves him. I guess, I understand why he hasn't tried to find me, especially with a new family. Maybe he's just waiting until I grow up. And it isn't as if I can give him a child. I've heard of those agencies that match up people who haven't met their mates and want kids. Or provide surrogates to same sex mate couples. Just because he's married doesn't mean he doesn't want me. Or that he doesn't want a male mate. He just isn't a pedophile. That's a_ good _thing. He doesn't want to mate with a kid. I could contact him now and screw up his happiness. I mean, okay, I don't know his name but I can find a map and I'm pretty sure the only place ending in e-r-q-u-e in New Mexico is Albuquerque. And the zip code would confirm it and then I just look for a drive ending in i-r-a with a southeast direction and find 1205 E or F. It wouldn't be hard at all but I don't want to mess up his life and have him dragged down with a whiny, needy teenaged mate. I'll just wait a few years and he can find me when he's ready._

__

Tony DiNozzo as a teen                                                        A Blanket Party


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Tony DiNozzo lay on his back on his bed in his bedroom in the Alpha Chi Delta fraternity house at Ohio State University. The door to his room was closed and locked, an unusual state when this occupant was present. However, Tony knew that he was about to have his vision and so he wanted the privacy that the closed and locked door provided. Most of his fraternity brothers would just assume Tony wasn't in and not even bother to knock, a plus in this situation as far as he was concerned. As he lay in bed and waited to suddenly be elsewhere, Tony reflected on the past several years, as was usual when he was waiting for his visions.

After the vision where he decided not to go looking for his mate but wait for them to come to him when he was an adult, Tony had changed his life plan. After research revealed that the only military base in Albuquerque, New Mexico was Kirtland Air Force Base, Tony decided not to try for West Point. And as he wasn't crazy about the idea of being in the air force, not wanting to fly or fix planes or anything like it, Tony decided he wasn't going to join the military. Tony wasn't an aviophobic but he just wasn't drawn to the air at all. And while accidentally joining a different branch of the military than his mate was acceptable, doing so deliberately was a sign that he did not want to bond, at least that is how Tony felt. If he and his mate were in different branches of the service, it was highly unlikely they would be able to be stationed near one another and that would cause problems with their careers and the bonding. So, Tony chose to concentrate on getting into a non-military college and thanks to his athletic prowess, he was actively scouted by several schools. He chose Ohio State because they were the only ones to offer him a full scholarship and he liked the idea of moving further west. He liked being closer to the Great Lakes for some strange reason.

Tony had actually contemplated attending the University of New Mexico when they offered him a partial scholarship but it just felt wrong. And Tony realized why when he saw his vision last year when he was a freshman. The vision had showed his mate's family at their new house while his mate played with his son in the yard and in the distance Tony could see some mountains that were obviously not in New Mexico.

So, Tony had accepted his admission and full ride to OSU and last fall had pledged a fraternity, wanting that connection and feeling of brotherhood and family that it would provide since he didn't have that connection with his soul's mate. Granted, he got some of that connected feeling from his fellow football and basketball players but there was too much competition among them to bring themselves to the attention of the coaches and any possible professional scouts to really click the way Tony had with many of his Alpha Delta Chi brothers.

Tony had quickly settled into college life, dropping into a Physical Education major to accompany his sports scholarship, letting the mask of clown come forward and adding a touch of dumb jock (though not too dumb) and once he had been accepted, learning to add the frat boy partier to his mask. And during the frat parties, Tony concentrated on projecting the mask of playboy to all present. And it wasn't a totally false mask.

During his last year at RIMA, when he was 17, he had taken a piano lesson course to fill an arts requirement necessary by the state for graduation. The classes were held off campus at a local music school and there Tony had met Wendy Miller. She was 24 and Tony fell for her hard. She was the first female teacher he had in years and she found the young boy attractive and seduced him handily, taking his virginity and carrying on an affair for nearly the entire length of the class, a full semester. Tony was deeply in love with her but knew that he couldn't stay with her. Their age difference and the fact that they weren't mates made things difficult. And Tony wanted to find his mate, or rather, have his mate find him. But Wendy was hot and seductive and Tony was in a vulnerable place having seen his mate with a wife and family. When he broke off their affair after graduation, Wendy was angry but didn't make a scene because she told Tony that he wasn't worth damaging her career over. Tony was hurt but didn't wish to hurt the woman he had fallen so hard for in any way, so he accepted her stoicism and moved on to Ohio.

Once on campus, he was exposed to many girls eager to date the rising star athlete and in trying to get over both Wendy and his mate's continued absence, Tony took some of them up on their offers. He justified it by repeating to himself that his mate was  _married_ and all Tony was doing was hooking up with random girls for a few nights of fun. The longest of these relationships to date had lasted a total of twenty-nine days and twenty of those were winter break when most of the students went home, including the girl Tony was seeing. When classes resumed, Tony had met with her twice more on consecutive nights and then they broke up. Tony was perfectly happy to spread himself around, always reminding himself that men had needs and that his mate understood this but Tony was always careful to use protection and only slept with women, feeling that to sleep with another man would somehow be cheating on his mate.

Tony waited for his vision to start, wondering if he would again see the happy little family or another military mission or just a bit of relaxation or shopping or normal, everyday activity, which Tony had yet to see in his visions. As Tony's sight changed, he realized he was about to find out.

Tony's mate was on his knees in a small room with bars on the wooden door. In front of him a smallish man with a thick beard and a strange military uniform stood, shaking a whip in his face, not just a crop but a full on cat-o-nine-tails whip. Then the man opened his pants and took out his cock and forced it into Tony's mate's mouth. If he had been able, Tony would have been yelling and crying as after a few minutes the man had Tony's mate pulled to his feet and bent over a nearby table, which told Tony for the first time that his mate and the man weren't alone in the room. His mate was being held by two others as he saw when his mate stumbled upon getting up and looked sideways and saw them grab his arms roughly. The first man disappeared from view and one of the others appeared in front of his mate's eyes. He too was not very tall and had dark hair and a beard and was wearing an unfamiliar uniform. This man already had his pants undone and soon shoved his cock in Tony's mate's mouth as well. And Tony could tell from the rocking motion his mate was making that someone, most likely the original man, was raping his mate from behind while this second man raped his mouth. The second man pulled out and the last sight in the vision that Tony had was of semen flying toward his mate's face.

As soon as Tony was back in control of his body, he fell off of the bed and to his knees by his trashcan, throwing up his lunch and then continuing to retch for several minutes even after his stomach was empty, bringing up bile and stomach acid into the trash can. When his body stopped heaving, Tony knelt over the can, tears streaming down his face, wanting to help his mate but knowing there was no way he could. As he fell back onto the floor, curled into a semi-fetal position, he thought things though and realized his mate must have been part of Operation Desert Storm and was a prisoner of war of the Iraqi army. And was being foully abused. There had been no news stories about missing airmen so his mate must have been on some special operations, “we never knew you” mission and has no hope of ransom, though maybe his unit will be able to rescue him on the down low. And Tony wouldn't know if that happened or if he was somehow able to escape or if he was killed or still in captivity for a whole year. Next year's vision would either be good news and show his mate home again or at least, free from his prison, or it would be not-so-good news and show his mate still in the prison and being abused but at least still alive, or it would be the ultimate bad news and Tony would see a vision of storm clouds indicating his mate's death or rainbow clouds indicating his mate's death and rebirth. Based on his calculations based on the earliest and latest his visions had occurred, Tony knew it would be 363 to 370 days before he knew if he was going to be older than his mate now.

As he lay curled up on the floor, tears still filling his eyes, though no longer falling, Tony wondered what this experience would mean for himself and his mate's desire to find him or not. After all, being raped by multiple men, most likely fairly often, was not conducive to a man with a wife wanting to leave her and have a sexual bonded relationship with another man. Tony worried that this combined with the age difference would forever preclude him from bonding with his mate during this lifetime. But he knew only time would tell. He also knew that he would spend a significant portion of time over the next year worrying about his mate's state and his own future with him.

* * *

 

Tony sat on his bed in his fraternity house bedroom waiting again for a vision and hoping for a good outcome. The last year had been filled with angst, worry, and hidden depression for Tony. And he had also been incredibly busy. A few days after his last vision, he had a meeting with his academic advisor and it had changed the course of his college career. His advisor had seen through Tony's mask and picked up on how unsettled Tony was and had gotten Tony to open up enough that he had had a vision where his mate whom he couldn't find was being badly hurt and Tony wanted to help and couldn't. His advisor had given him a frank talking to.

– - – - – -

“ _Listen, Tony, you're a smart kid. You're pretty good at playing the dumb jock in public but I've seen your grades and your high school transcripts. You're smart. And I know you seem to want to try and go pro in one of your sports and you certainly have the chops for it. And if you make it, I'll be there cheering for ya, but what then. Pro athletes don't exactly have lengthy multi-decade careers, especially football players, which seems your best shot. So, even assuming you make a professional team and don't take a career ending injury during your twenties, you'll retire by thirty-five, or more likely by thirty-two. Your body just can't take that level of stress for long and the players with the longest careers are quarterbacks which ain't your position. So, what will you do when your pro career is over? Live off your earnings and doing the occasional endorsement? You'd go insane within months with nothing to do. Your degree will be in Physical Education which is fine but limits your opportunities a bit. You can try to get one of the limited professional coaching positions out there or maybe a college coaching position,” Tony had cringed openly at the thought which his advisor picked up on, “that's what I thought, and if you don't want to coach on the upper level, I doubt you want to be a gym teacher and coach high school or even younger.” Tony had shaken his head vehemently._

“ _Then you need a fall back, kid. A major that will give you more options in the real world after college and after any pro career. I've looked over your courses and noticed that you've picked up several towards a minor in criminology? That doesn't exactly match up with your major or projected self there, Tony. But, if you wanted to put in some serious work and push yourself hard, I think with my help you can change that minor in criminology to a major and leave this place with a double major. Then, when you go pro, during the off-season, you can work towards a Master's degree and when you retire from sports, you'll have lots of options and they would tie in with what you were talking about earlier. You can't help your mate right now but somewhere down the line, you can help others in their situation and sort of pay it forward. And since you chose this minor, it seems to be something that interests you, so I'm not just pulling this out of my ass.”_

_Tony had thought about it for a minute and when he asked for more information, his advisor had continued, “Like I said, this will be a lot of work. You'll have to take a full load of summer classes every year, starting this summer, and a full load of classes every semester, plus some independent study on top of that which I can clear once you prove next fall that you can handle the workload on top of your sports duties. I checked and your scholarship will cover it, especially since it was a partial sports scholarship and several separate academic scholarships and academic grants. You are going to be tired and your brain will likely feel like it's going to explode but I think you can do it. I believe this is the best course for you, Tony.” And after a night's sleeping on it, Tony had agreed to the plan._

–  _\- – - – -_

Tony was indeed exhausted, both mentally and physically, but he was enjoying the challenge the double major option presented. He still took the time to unwind whenever he could and was able to do so thanks to incredibly detailed plans for his studying, writing of papers, sports practices and games, classes, meals and other activities. He knew that if he didn't make time to come down from the stress, he would burn out and be of no use to anyone. So, thanks to his nearly minute by minute plans, he was able to spend at least a good part of each weekend with his frat brothers relaxing or partying or on dates. His frat brothers understood his change and supported him when he needed extra help with any subject one of them was good in and Tony returned the favor wherever he could. That was the beauty of the brotherhood of the fraternity.

And now, Tony was seated on the edge of his bed, waiting through the pains of the pre-vision warning and hoping against his more pessimistic instincts that he would see more than gray and black storm clouds.

Tony suddenly saw through his mate's eyes and for a few brief moments, he rejoiced. Until he realized what his mate was seeing. His mate was obviously laying on his back in a bed and above him, straddling his waist was his wife. He could see his mate's hands on her waist, guiding her as she moved up and down, impaling herself on his cock. His mate turned his attention to that place of connection and moved one of his hands between the woman's legs, the fingers massaging the woman's clit and his mate raised his hips and lowered them in rhythm as the woman rode him. His mate's abdomen was covered in sweat and the woman's blond hair was sticking to her face as her activities ruined any hairdo she had previously crafted. Tony saw his mate run the unoccupied hand up to the woman's shoulder and pull her down towards him to kiss her lips and then drift to her breast, rolling it in his large hand and tweaking the nipple as she threw her head back and seemingly yelled out. His mate continued to lift and lower his hips, his hands again on the woman's waist, until he his hips snapped up higher and his gaze went to the ceiling of the bedroom, as he obviously climaxed. The woman fell forward on top of his mate and lay there as the vision ended.

Tony flopped back from the edge of the bed and landed on his pillow.  _Well, at least he's not dead and he got out of that prison. He's not being tortured and raped anymore. That's a good thing. Look to the bright side, right? He's obviously happy with her and he must know I'm an adult by now but he doesn't even seem to be trying to find me. It can't be that hard. I could've gone to him years ago. I don't think he wants me. I don't know if it's the male thing, the age thing, military homophobia, his experiences as a POW, or a combination of any or all of it but I really don't think he wants anything to do with me. Why would he? No one else has ever wanted me long term. Mom, Dad, Wendy, any of the girls I've dated here, Dad was right. No one wants me, I'm just a waste of space. Why am I even trying? What's the point?_

A knock came on the door, “Hey, Tonio, you in there, man? We need your help with this damn sociology project!”

Tony sat up and wiped his face. “Just a minute, Steve! I'll be there as soon as I get the stuff together.”  _That's why I try. It isn't about me, it's about everyone else. Like that Christmas movie,_ It's a Wonderful Life _, you never know how your life impacts other people, so you live for them, not yourself._

Tony DiNozzo in college


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

It had been three years and Tony was once again laying on a bed waiting for a vision. This time, however, the bed was an Resident Advisor's room in a dorm at Indiana State University. Tony was in his second year of working toward his Master's Degree in Criminology, tuition paid for by a grant and an academic scholarship, room and board plus a small stipend covered by being an RA in one of the undergraduate dorms.

Tony's final year at OSU had been filled with pain and another life changing moment. He was on the football field playing against the University of Michigan's Wolverines. Tony's Ohio State Buckeyes were in the lead and Tony was running for a touchdown when a defender came out of nowhere and tackled him, hard. It was a perfectly legal tackle, Tony just had the incredible bad luck to take the hit in the wrong place and land badly on top of it. It dislocated his knee, fractured his tibia, and tore his ACL in his left leg. That one moment effectively ended any shot at a professional football or basketball career. Tony spent the rest of his senior year on crutches, even going to spring break in a soft cast to support his knee and lower leg. He got lots of action from the ladies for it and spent every night of break with a different girl.

Tony had pretty much given up on his soul's mate coming for him and decided to have fun and not worry about him or what he thought since he obviously didn't care what Tony thought or wanted from him. Tony graduated OSU with bachelor degrees in his double majors of Physical Education and Criminology and promptly enrolled for the next fall at Indiana State. Shortly after his injury occurred he endured several agonizing operations to get his knee back into proper alignment and was still undergoing regular physical therapy, although now it was more like personal training. In the past year, he had finally been able to return to one of his first loves, running, and had been steadily increasing his speed, endurance, and distance.

While working hard towards his degree, Tony still utilized his masks. Indeed, after his change in his life's direction, Tony had added movie buff to his repertoire. While in the hospital and after when he was not able to do many of his enjoyed physical activities, his frat brothers had entertained him with movie marathons and Tony found that he truly enjoyed them. He continued watching movies he had never seen before and re-watching ones he hadn't seen in a long time, using his amazing memory to memorize plots and details from the films to later use to regale his friends and romantic conquests with the trivia.

Tony truly had given up on his mate, having seen several more visions of the man in happy family situations, though thankfully, never again in bed with his wife, at least so far. Tony was lost in pessimism regarding his mate and often wished he didn't have one, it would be easier for him to deal with a dead or underage mate than a mate who didn't want him. And Tony finally decided that if his mate didn't care about him than he could sleep with whoever he wanted.

After he transferred to Indiana State, Tony started frequenting gay bars and slept with several men, discovering that he truly loved being fucked senseless and actually preferred sex with men to sex with women where he was on top. Tony had slept with several kinky women who like to be in control and after he had started sleeping with men had been fucked by a few women with strap-ons but found it hollow. Tony still slept with lots of women and his flirt switch was constantly in an on position, but when he was really struggling, Tony would go out and bottom for men he picked up in bars. And while Tony had several brief relationships with women (the longest after he graduated OSU being three months), Tony never had more than one night or one weekend stands with men. He just couldn't bring himself to get into more than a fleeting sexual relationship with another man, regardless of how angry he felt at what he saw as his mate's betrayal of him and their possible future bond.

Tony would be graduating in the upcoming fall after this spring semester and the summer sessions and his final classes and the writing of his thesis in the fall. By then, his leg should be fully healed, barring any freak re-injury of it, and Tony planned to apply to the Peoria Police Academy and work his way up the ranks, protecting and serving in his way, rather than the military. By the time he began classes at the police academy, he should have no problem handling the rigorous physical demands and after his time at RIMA, he felt that he should be fine with the weapons training as well. Tony was determined to help others like he couldn't help his mate. He never again wanted to watch, unable to act, when someone was harmed in front of him.

Tony lay gazing at the ceiling, wishing this would just get over with, when it began. He was in the back of a plane, or at least, his mate was. His mate was surrounded by others, all dressed in camouflage and strapped up with packed parachutes. After a few minutes of looking around at the other men, his mate turned to the rear of the plane as the hatch opened and his mate made his way forward. Finally, his mate reached the open doorway and jumped from the plane, jerking upwards shortly thereafter as the chute opened and Tony watched as his mate drifted towards the ground, at what Tony thought was an unusually high rate of speed. His mate looked upwards and Tony saw that the chute, while open, had a tear in it and wasn't catching the air quite like it should. His mate wasn't in free-fall, but he was faster than a parachutist should be. Before long, his mate hit the ground and Tony saw the ground approaching his mate's head fast as his mate landed badly and didn't move, obviously injured and likely unconscious because he wasn't getting up or moving around. Tony knew he had hit his head fairly hard on the ground and likely had at the least a concussion but the vision had not ended abruptly before showing black and gray clouds so Tony knew his mate was alive and help would get to him soon.

Tony's vision ended before that help arrived but his mate had turned his head just at the end, so Tony wasn't overly worried. His mate was again conscious, though injured. He hoped that his negativity had not somehow jinxed him and led to the accident, but his mate was in the military and these things happened. Tony had seen the nearby city as his mate approached the ground and knew it was in America so this was likely a training mishap and not a true mission in hostile territory. His mate would go to the hospital where his wife and kid could visit and pamper him. While Tony just got to wonder what he would see the next time his mate's conception date rolled around.

Tony DiNozzo ready to go clubbing

* * *

 

 

Tony sat on the futon that did double duty as both his sofa and his bed. There wasn't really room in his small studio apartment for both, so Tony did the sensible thing and used multi-purpose furniture. His small dining room table did triple duty, also serving as a desk and an end table. Tony's apartment wasn't much but it was all he could afford in a relatively safe neighborhood not far from the precinct where he worked.

After getting his Master's degree, Tony had applied to and been accepted at the Peoria Police Academy, just like he had planned. He took the full course and finished in first place in his graduating class. He was taken on the force and began by walking patrol in downtown Peoria. After three months, he was transferred to the traffic division, which basically consisted of him writing parking tickets and if he was on night patrol, stopping drunk drivers at checkpoints.

When he had out his time in on the lowly ladder rungs and impressed his bosses, he was transferred to work Vice. He was still a patrolman, not a detective but he was working with lots of them. His pretty boy, baby faced good looks often put him on the street corners undercover as a supposed prostitute. The few times they tried to have him work as a supposed john, the working girls made him. One of them said outright that someone with his face would never have to pay for more than a drink at a bar to get sex. So, he was the bait and learned to be the epitome of a rent boy.

Though he had a few close calls, Tony never got into a situation he couldn't get out of, either by himself or with the assistance of his backup. Tony knew however, that if any of the cops who had helped him out knew that he was bisexual and had a male mate, he would have been on his own, due to supposed malfunctioning comms or delays due to traffic or high call volume. After seeing something like that happen twice during his first three weeks working with Vice to another cop who was openly bisexual, Tony decided it wasn't worth risking his life to sleep with other than women. He was good at enticing guys to his side out on the street, and the other cops appreciated what they considered his acting skills and felt bad that the ultimate playboy (as Tony played up) had to act the fag to do his job. But no one ever thought that Tony was  _too_ good at it. His mask was so well constructed that when someone new to the department mentioned they thought he was gay, they were shouted down from multiple sources. Tony went with other uniformed officers and some detectives to bars on their down time regularly and made sure to at the least get phone numbers and usually leave with a woman for a night of stress relief between the sheets.

After nearly two years with the Peoria PD, Tony was involved in a gigantic bust that took down a madam that had over a dozen brothels that she ran as supposedly legitimate businesses, ranging from the obvious (tanning salon and massage parlors) to the unusual (a chiropractor's office and a travel agent). When they busted several of the locations, they discovered that the woman not only dealt in sex for money but also had branched out into drugs, they found hidden storerooms filled with cocaine, heroin, ecstasy, meth, and marijuana. Tony was put in charge of weighing and cataloging the evidence from two of the locations. He was meticulous in his duties and made sure to get it all done before he left for the end of his shift. He logged in four hundred fifty-two pounds of cocaine, three hundred eight pounds of marijuana, and one hundred ten pounds of ecstasy. None of his locations that he logged the evidence from had any heroin or meth. He properly secured the drugs in the evidence lock-up and signed the log. He went home for the night and had the next two days off.

When he returned to the precinct after his down time, he went to the evidence locker to continue the work on the case and discovered that over sixty pounds of the various drugs he had cataloged had seemingly walked out of the evidence locker on their own. The log was doctored, badly, and Tony went to his superior about the matter, only to be told he was wrong and he must have been mistaken. The look he received when his lieutenant said this made Tony aware that he knew what had happened and that it was a regular thing for cops to be dealing out of the evidence locker. And that if Tony knew what was good for him, he would keep his mouth shut and turn a blind eye to the issue.

Tony did not want to and spent several days thinking about contacting Internal Affairs but after finding his car egged with flat tires, the knife used still in one of them, Tony decided to keep his mouth shut and his blood in his body. But he also started looking for other cities to work in. He didn't want to get on the bad side of the cops in Peoria, even though they were corrupt, but Tony simply couldn't keep working with them, not knowing who only knew about it, and who was actively involved and how high up the corruption went. He wasn't sure if his lieutenant was involved or just knew and didn't care about it. So, after nearly three years in Peoria, six months of it at the academy, Tony transferred with good references (for keeping his mouth shut) to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

During his time in Peoria, Tony had several visions of his mate, of course. Two of them had been his mate on military missions, in a tent and riding in a plane. The rest had been his mate with the family, watching his son play baseball or eating dinner with the family, making out with his wife, though Tony did not see any unclothed moments, though the end of the last vision, had his mate starting to take his wife's shirt off as it ended. Tony was always incredibly depressed for a month or so after these visions when there was no sign that his mate was looking for him. Tony's friends and his co-workers all blamed his depression on the job or on the weather, because January was usually quite inclement and lots of people had various levels of seasonal affective disorder after the rush of the holiday season was over. And Tony never told them the truth, he just went along with the lie and pushed his way through the down times until he evened out and returned to normal.

Sometimes, Tony had to fight himself extraordinarily hard to not fall prey to his parents' weakness. He felt the lure of the forgetfulness that alcohol could bring but he didn't want to tread that path. He knew that if he started using alcohol as a crutch, he would slide down that slope and become an alcoholic just like them. And Tony had no desire to give his mate that power over his life, so he resisted. Instead, Tony drowned himself in women and sex, becoming a true hedonist. And at other times, losing himself in movies where the mates triumph over any problem and find one another by the end of the reel. He would be able to focus on the men and women and their happy endings and push away his depressive, pessimistic certainty that he would never have that love he saw on the screen.

And now, Tony was awaiting his first vision to take place while he was in Philadelphia. He had just gotten off a long day working Vice. When he had transferred, he had been encouraged to take the detective's exam and he had done exceptionally well and earned a gold shield. He was the youngest officer to do so in forty years. And he had just spent a solid week working undercover to bust a prostitution ring that was blackmailing the johns, all fairly well-off men with relatively high profile jobs. He had brought them down just a few hours before and Tony really had no desire to see a vision of the man who didn't want him but knew he had no choice, so he slumped back on the futon, the television in front of him tuned to the local news which was discussing the bust without the dirty details of the types of men who were blackmailed were, judges, cops, lawyers, doctors, politicians. It disgusted Tony that it would all get swept under the rug, but that was the way the system worked. He knew he was being incredibly cynical but after his experiences in Peoria and now this, his pessimistic inner nature was holding sway, especially since he was about to get lost in a vision.

The view of the prostitutes on the perp walk on the television faded into a view of a hallway, lined with wood paneling. There were pretty paintings on the walls of various landscapes but Tony didn't think they were done by any masters in art. His mate was moving slowly, his booted feet lifting and returning to the carpeted floor with precision and stealth. He slid along the wall, not quite touching and used the reflection in a darkened window to see what was around the corner. There was a man dressed in fatigues but they looked off, even in the reflection and Tony bet this guy wasn't in a legitimate military. His mate stood at the junction of the two hallways and waited patiently, not even seeming to shift his weight at all. He watched in the reflection as the other man approached the junction and when he walked into the gap, Tony's mate grabbed him, one hand around his mouth, pulling him back to his mate's chest, the other hand applying pressure to the side of the man's head and twisting, breaking his neck. His mate then grabbed the body in a fireman's carry and opened one of the doors nearby and placed him there, closing the door and returning to the hallway junction. He proceeded to the cross hallway and stealthily made his way to a nearby door, opening it and Tony saw the NBC local weatherman talking about the freezing overnight temperatures.

Tony sighed. He knew his reaction to this vision would be different to the last time he had seen his mate kill with his bare hands. Tony had changed in all of the years since he had first seen his mate's dangerous side. He hadn't had a nightmare about that in over six years and he didn't expect to have one tonight, at least not about this. Tony had his share of nightmares, some of them featuring his mate, but they were usually dealing with his mate's time as a POW or the accident where his mate's parachute didn't properly open and he could have died. He had one of those every four or five months on average. Most of Tony's nightmares, at least once a week, dealt with his own issues, like his father or cops not having his back in a bad situation leading to him being raped and/or killed. But Tony always shook them off, not allowing them to disturb his mask. The only thing that could really do that was his mate. And he always played that off as something else. No way would he let that secret out.

Detective Tony DiNozzo in Philadelphia

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Tony sat in the back stall of the least used men's room in the precinct, the door locked and the seat down. He was minutes away from his newest vision and he truly hated it. His life had changed so much since he had first had a vision and he wanted them to go away. He didn't need them anymore. He wasn't looking for his soul's mate, just happiness and love and a family of his own. And Tony believed he had found it. Wendy Miller had come back into his life several months ago and approached him in a bar, asking him if she could buy him a drink. Nostalgia had led him to agree and the rest, as they say, was history. Tony planned on taking time this weekend to find a nice engagement ring and he would marry Wendy and they would have a family and be happy without needing some ridiculous mystical connection to someone who didn't want you in the first place.

Tony's career had taken some twists in recent years. After leaving Peoria due to the blatant corruption, Tony had joined the Philly PD and quickly became a detective. He started out with a brief stint in Vice which led to a few months in Narcotics when they needed extra hands with the unending was on drugs. Then Tony's undercover skills, learned first at his father's fists and honed over the years at RIMA, OSU, and various homophobic environments, drew the attention of a joint task force taking on organized crime. Tony's looks and knowledge of the Italian language and culture led them to place him as an undercover operative in one of the biggest mob families on the East Coast, the Macalusos.

Over the course of eleven months in deep cover, Tony ingratiated himself with the head of the family by saving the life on his only granddaughter when she fell into the Schuylkill River. Tony had been present at a large gathering of the Family and their minions and had been the only one to see the six-year-old little girl chase a butterfly towards the edge, only to trip over her trailing dress sash and fall in to the deep, swift current. He had yanked off his coat and toed off his shoes without a second thought and dived in near where she had fallen. Luckily, because the current was very fast and would have swiftly taken her downstream out of reach of any rescue, the sash that had caused her fall had gotten caught on some debris under the water. Tony was able to free her from the underwater hazard which was trying to drown her and let the current carry them, the little girl clinging tightly to her rescuer after she stopped fighting him, to a shallow spot of the bank, Tony's athleticism saving both of their lives, though swimming was not one of his go-to sports.

When he had crawled out and gotten them both to safety, he had collapsed, exhausted and in pain from protecting his charge from the debris floating in the rain clogged river. Several minutes passed before nearly the entire Family reached them, all of them having feared the worst, as they later told Tony. The head of the family, Gianni Macaluso, had invited him back to the family's compound to dry off and recover from his heroic efforts. And thereafter, Tony was a made man. He was assigned to bodyguard duties of the younger children when they were out of the house and not in school, and to guard duties within the compound when they were in the house or in their schools. Gianni trusted Tony quickly and with that trust, Tony was able to gather enough evidence to bring down the majority of the family.

Unfortunately, Gianni himself had always been too careful to get caught with any illegal activities provable. All of his sons and three of his adult grandsons were sent to jail, along with many other associates. Gianni hated the fact that Tony had betrayed them and put out a hit on the young cop. However, in thanks for his heroic actions, which Gianni knew had been instinctive, he limited the hit. If Tony was killed while in Philadelphia, Gianni would pay his killer 1.5 million dollars. If Tony was killed elsewhere, even in the suburbs, the killer would not only receive no money, but they would be killed. Gianni let it be known that he was never leaving the city again and he wanted there to be no chance of him running into his erstwhile friend. But that he didn't want his life to end if he chose to go elsewhere. And Gianni made it clear that anyone trying to trick him by killing Tony elsewhere and then bringing his body to Philadelphia and staging a scene, would not only be killed, but would pray and beg for death over the course of months before the end came.

After two attempts on his life that Tony escaped by the skin of his teeth, taking a bullet both times, once saved by the fact that he was wearing a bullet proof vest and once moving at the last moment and the long range shot grazing his bicep, rather than striking his heart, Tony transferred to the city of Baltimore, Maryland and became a detective in the police department's elite Homicide squad. He was partnered with a veteran detective, Danny Price, and became the squad's golden haired boy, increasing their solve rate by over twelve percent with his out of the box thinking and wacky movie references.

While in Philadelphia, before he had gone undercover, Tony had begun taking night and online graduate level classes at Temple University in forensics and profiling and other law enforcement bent classes. He had no real desire to gain another degree but he enjoyed keeping his mind stimulated and learning new things and these classes helped him to do his job better, so all was good. When he transferred to Baltimore, Tony began taking classes at the University of Maryland. It was enjoyable for him and helped him to focus on more than his depression.

Tony's personal life had also changed after leaving Peoria. He still had not wanted there to be any chance of being outed to his fellow cops and so he had shied away from even the briefest of liaisons with a man. However, every year on his vacation, Tony would go to a gay friendly beach town far from home and spend the time meeting men and being fucked by them. It was only when he was comfortable that he would not be seen by anyone he knew that he was able to relax enough to enjoy sex the way he preferred it. And he would return to the precinct, whether the one in Philly or the one in Baltimore, with tales of trips with old frat brothers and reliving their spring break days and getting laid by young co-eds on their wild week long vacations. Tony just never mentioned that the copious amounts of sex he was having was with other men.

Then, he ran into Wendy again and his yearning for easier days and happier times, resurfaced. His age old longing for a family and belonging that had begun when he was barely a toddler being alternately fawned over and ignored by a drunk and high mother and a distant and cold father, hit him with a vengeance and now he was prepared to make the full commitment to his first lover.

But first he had to endure this excruciating time where he would be transported across the country or around the world to see through the eyes of a complete stranger and intrude into the privacy of their life in the hopes that somehow he would gain enough information in ten minutes time to locate them. _Well,_ thought Tony viciously, _fuck that! He doesn't want or need me, he's got his happy family and now I'm going to get mine!_

As Tony cursed his mate's existence in intruding upon his life, the vision began. His mate was reading the paper, a story about a local fair and the rides, games and other attractions that were coming soon to the Douglas County Fairgrounds. He turned his head and his wife's head appeared around the corner of a post that Tony knew from previous visions led to the kitchen. His mate must have asked a question because she nodded and smiled. He turned back to the paper and closed it, allowing Tony to get a glimpse of the front page's banner, declaring that his mate had been reading the Colorado Springs Gazette. Then his mate suddenly was gazing at a lap full of young boy, who Tony supposed had been told that they would be attending the fair his mate had been reading about. His mate began to tickle the young boy and he squirmed around and the wife came and joined in, sometimes her hands tickling their son, sometimes her husband. _What a happy little family,_ Tony thought meanly. And as the family bonded, the vision ended leaving Tony feeling empty and unwanted. His mate was happy where he was, in Colorado, with his family and his career, and Tony was happy with his career here in Baltimore and hopefully would be with his new wife, if she said yes. He had no desire to intrude on the family and disrupt his mate's life with Tony's unwanted presence.

Wendy Miller, Tony's fiancee

* * *

 

Tony sat at his desk in the bull pen at the DC Headquarters of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. It was the middle of the night and he had returned to catch up on paperwork and review a cold case that he thought he might have had an epiphany on. He was in the midst of running a computer search which might turn this cold case, a murder of a marine captain, hot again when he felt the warning signs of an upcoming vision. Tony had sighed and kept working, knowing he had a few minutes until it would be critical. After the search was running itself, Tony put his head down on his desk, so he appeared asleep to anyone looking at he security monitors or doing the security rounds. It wouldn't be the first time they had seen him in that or a similar position here in the middle of the night since he began working here well over a year ago.

Shortly after Tony had bought that engagement ring for Wendy, his life had changed again. He had tackled what he thought at the time was a criminal and discovered instead an undercover Navy cop, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. They had decided to work the case that brought Gibbs to Baltimore together, Tony had proposed to Wendy who accepted, and in the course of the case, Tony has discovered that his friend and partner, Danny, was a dirty cop, taking bribes to look the other way from some criminals. Tony was devastated at yet another betrayal in his life and knew he could never trust Danny to have his back again. He went to NCIS to give his final report to Gibbs and the man talked him into applying at NCIS and joining his team, which at that moment was new and consisted of Gibbs himself. Tony trusted the other man and agreed to this idea.

Tony told Wendy without betraying Danny by revealing his crimes and she didn't understand why he wanted to move to DC and leave the police department. But she realized his mind was made up after several long discussions about the matter. Tony attended the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC) and took the required courses to change from a cop to a federal agent. He finished his courses in the top three in his class.

Then, Tony began working with Gibbs as the Major Case Response Team out of the Washington, DC Navy Yard. Most of the time, it was only the two of them working cases. Occasionally, the director of NCIS, Tom Morrow, would assign another agent in the hopes of expanding the team but they rarely lasted very long. The one with the most staying power was Vivian Blackadder and it turned out that she had an agenda and nearly got all of them killed by not following orders. Gibbs had promptly fired her and she had returned to work at the FBI where she had been before joining NCIS. There were others but they usually were transferred, quit or were fired by Gibbs within a few weeks.

Tony liked working cases with just he and Gibbs. He knew he could trust the man to have his six and he found his gruff manner and self-confessed bastard persona to be somehow comforting. Tony had even asked him to be his best man when the wedding to Wendy approached. But Wendy had decided it was wrong for them to marry. Tony didn't know why but the night before the ceremony, he got a letter delivered by her maid of honor that told him she wouldn't be there the next day. With Gibbs' help, he had instituted a phone tree and called people to tell them the wedding was off, from the guests to the minister to the caterers and photographers. Then Gibbs helped him to get drunk and watched over him while he broke down. While drunk, Tony had revealed that while he truly loved Wendy, she wasn't his soul's mate. He didn't reveal anything about his soul's mate to Gibbs but told him that he thought he and Wendy could have been happy, regardless. Tony was a completely morose drunk this night and ended up sobbing all over Gibbs. After making him drink water when he had calmed down and putting him to bed in Gibbs guest room, laying him in the recovery position, just in case and with a bucket nearby, Gibbs had left him to sleep it off. When Tony woke the next morning, there was another glass of water and some aspirin on the nightstand and Gibbs had made them coffee and a hangover breakfast consisting on eggs, toast, fried tomatoes, and real fresh apple juice. Gibbs never brought up any of the things Tony had said the night before and never discussed the breakdown with him either. Tony truly appreciated the man's stoicism and restraint.

Then, a few months later, Tony was actually thankful that Wendy had broken it off when he had his next vision and saw his mate carefully packing away all of his air force uniforms, mothballing them and placing them in the back of his closet. His mate had retired from the military and Tony truly hoped again. He hoped that this would be a lead in to his mate attempting to find him so they could be together without military mindsets about homosexuality in the way. It had been a year since Tony saw that vision and there had been no sign of his mate.

Yet, Tony was still holding on to hope. He figured it was possible that the last vision, the only one when he would have been in DC had not given enough information to his mate as to his new location. He had moved around a lot in the past decade. Ohio, Indiana, Peoria, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and now DC. He had resolved to wait and hope for the best, though he wasn't being a hermit in the meantime. Tony still dated, almost always women since he was working for the Navy though he wasn't enlisted. He occasionally went clubbing with the forensic tech, Abby Sciuto, but their tastes didn't quite match up and the clubs she preferred were a bit louder and more wild than those he liked to do his partying at.

But most of his time was spent working. Gibbs expected his best and Tony was determined to please the man, if only to avoid the inevitable head slaps that were delivered by the older man when he felt Tony was off track or not focusing or needed a bit of discipline. Tony found it a very odd management technique but actually appreciated that Gibbs cared enough to help him. It was comforting and with each head slap, Tony respected Gibbs more, as weird as that was. Tony supposed there was some deep psychological issue connected to this, most likely leading back to his father and mother and their disappointing parenting styles but Tony didn't care and would never talk to a shrink about those issues anyway so it was a moot point and Tony decided to feel what he felt and leave it at that.

Tony's head was down on his desk and his eyes were closed, to appear innocuous. He did not feel like finding a private spot and no one but security was in this late at night, or early in the morning depending on how you looked at it, and they wouldn't disturb him, knowing the kind of hours working with Gibbs, especially alone, demanded of the young agent.

Tony's vision began and he saw his mate was in the middle of a desert, running towards what appeared to be adobe like buildings. As his mate turned his head to look behind him, Tony could see why he was running, there was a huge sandstorm approaching his mate at a high rate of speed. As his mate ran, Tony could see others around him, soldiers in camouflage and natives in robes and face coverings. His mate reached the buildings and mere seconds later the storm hit them, plunging the room into darkness until someone lit a lighter, seemingly his mate. And as his mate searched for a torch or something to set on fire, the vision ended.

Tony kept his head down as he processed the vision.  _Either my interpretation of last year's vision had been wrong_ , thought Tony,  _or he retired and then un-retired himself for some reason. Whatever the case, he isn't looking for me. He chose the military over even trying to find me. I guess I was stupid to have hope again. He_ doesn't want me!  _I need to really accept that and let him go, just get through these visions and not think about them or him when they end. Just accept that this life is not one that will be spent with my mate. I have a good enough life, I love working with Gibbs here at NCIS, I've made friends with other here like Pacci and Balboa and Abby, I know Gibbs is there when I really need him, I get lucky fairly often and don't need to be in a relationship to have good sex. I just need to leave it at that and stop being a fucking closet romantic!_

Tony's computer beeped with the ending of the search he had set and he raised his head and got back to work, firmly putting his mate's additional betrayal out of his mind, at least for now.

 

    

Detectives Danny Price and Tony DiNozzo of Baltimore                         Jack O'Neill caught in sandstorm on Abydos (Tony thinks it is Earth)                            

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Tony had been feeling the tingling and pinpricks since just before he threw himself down to stop the body on the beach from getting hit by a wave and washing away potential evidence. He knew it was unlikely he would get somewhere private before it hit and was cringing more from that thought than the cold ocean water when Ducky offered him the use of the autopsy van to change.

Since his last vision, their team had gained a new member who looked to have true staying power. Gibbs had recruited Kate Todd when she had been more or less forced to resign to avoid being fired from the Secret Service. She was tough and touted herself to be a profiler, though she was a bit set in her ways and prudish. She also didn't seem to be able to tell that Tony's mask was a mask and not who he really was. Tony didn't expect her to be able to know the real him but for a profiler to not realize that a co-worker was not showing the world their true self was a red flag as to their profiling skills.

Tony decided the autopsy van was better than being out in the open or sitting in the car and being completely obvious about what was happening. He would never hear the end of it from Kate if she caught him in a mate vision. Tony didn't mind teasing and he gave as good as he got, but Kate sometimes seemed to have trouble with the appropriate boundaries, which Tony knew was ironic and somewhat hypocritical coming from him, but she took her teasing too far and seemed to deliberately aim below the belt whenever she could. And this was prime below the belt material that she would milk until the end of forever.

So he climbed into the back of the autopsy van, closed the door and took out the jumpsuit he would be changing into. Tony laughed silently as he gazed at it. Tony was 6 feet 3 inches and Ducky was at best 5 feet 10 inches, maybe less. The fit was going to be laughter inducing but better teasing about that then his visions. So, he quickly stripped out of his wet clothes and pulled on the autopsy jumpsuit, knowing he didn't have much time until the vision hit. And he was right. Before he had even finished getting the suit fastened, he was suddenly seeing through his mate's eyes.

Tony's mate was on a field and it was covered in ash. There were bodies laying around that were also covered in ash and other people brushing the ash off of them and in the distance Tony saw a spewing volcano. And it wasn't close distance either. This was a major eruption. Tony wondered why he hadn't heard anything on the news about this. It looked bad enough to effect air travel and probably would lead to weather changes, too. Tony shook off the thought as his mate turned around. If Tony had control of his body, his mouth would have dropped open in shock. Behind his mate was a huge metallic ring with symbols around it, the center was hollow and empty until suddenly, it wasn't. A large plume of what looked like water sprayed out and settled back into a puddle standing up, defying gravity within the hole in the ring. A few moments later Tony saw people stumble through the puddle who had not been on the other side of it before the puddle appeared. Tony thought they looked like medical personnel, they were carrying hand held stretchers and started loading the ash covered people onto them. When a dozen or so people had come through the puddle, it disappeared and Tony watched as his mate gestured to a mushroom shaped device nearby and one of the soldiers pressed some buttons on it and the plume of water followed by the puddle reappeared. Then the medical personnel and their ash coated patients began walking into the puddle and again not coming out the other side. After the last of the others had disappeared into the puddle, Tony's mate walked forward as if on a stroll and was about to hit the puddle when Tony was in the autopsy van again.

_Holy shit! What the hell was that? That can't have been real. Did I just see my mate's dream? Or nightmare? Or did he go crazy? Was that like a schizophrenic vision or something? I mean, that puddle ring – it had to be in his mind. The people were just appearing from the water and disappearing back into it. And I know a volcanic eruption that large would have been all over the news. I'm going to have to do research on this. After the case, though. If Gibbs, or worse, Kate, catches me researching soul mate vision research, an obviously personal search on Gibbs' time, I'm dead meat._

–  _\- – - – -_

The case was over and they had caught the killer, the wife. Tony always felt a visceral and viscous satisfaction when the wife or fiancee or long term girlfriend was the perpetrator of a crime. But only if the woman wasn't the soul's mate of the man she was with. Tony told himself that it had nothing to do with his soul's mate and his blonde wife but knew he was lying, badly, to himself. Tony truly hated men who gave up on their mates to settle for some random woman, not caring how it made their mates feel. And he always truly hated the woman in the relationship and loved watching them get their comeuppance. It made him feel vindicated. Although, in public, he always just said it was always the wife. Kate put it down to his lack of respect for women and his love of movie plots. Gibbs knew better but didn't call him on it.

The office was empty. It was well after dinner and the teams had all left. Even Tony had left to go to get dinner before starting his research. He was conflicted. If his mate had developed a mental disorder, Tony wanted to be there for him, maybe the soul mate bond would help to steady him. But, alternatively, Tony had realized over the course of the day that it could have been a hallucination caused by some kind of drug, recreational or otherwise. And with his mate's history and time as a POW, Tony could understand the lure of drugs to help him forget. And again, the bond might be able to ease his mate's soul enough to get him off of the drugs.

Tony knew that he could probably find his mate with little trouble if either of those was the case. He knew he was in Colorado Springs, he was in the Air Force, an officer, and had a family, a wife and son. He even knew what the outside of his house looked like. If it came down to it, he could just rent a car and drive up and down every street until he found it. But Tony wasn't willing to do that unless he proved that his mate really needed him. He was researching what exactly you saw through visions. Whether it was possible to see dreams or hallucinations and if the mate bond could help stabilize a mate's mind that was lost in a psychotic break.

Tony sat at his desk with his computer warmed up and ready to go. He started with a general search of visions and their history and continued to modern interpretations and scientific research and then searched bonding and its effect on the mind and body of the bonded pair.

When he was done, he began reading the information and what he discovered threw him for a loop. According to all research and accounts of visions, going back as far as the earliest records kept, what you saw in a vision was only what was in front of your mate's eyes. Even if your mate was blind, as long as the eyes were still in their head, you saw what they would see if they weren't blind. If the soul having the visions was blind, the visions were the only time they would be able to see anything. If your mate was asleep or unconscious, you saw what was beyond their eyelids though it was a little blurrier than normal. You didn't see dreams or hallucinations. If your mate was high and seeing colors and weird sights while you had the vision, you would only see what the eyes actually saw, not how the brain, damaged either permanently or briefly, was interpreting the signals. That was the reason behind the horrific practice of blinding criminals by gouging out their eyes. Their mate would have nothing to see because the eyes were not present.

And yes, often a mate's psychological disorder could be evened out, if not actually healed, by the mate bond. They found that mates with a solid bond needed fewer drugs to stabilize their brains, whether the problem was depression, PTSD, or something more serious like schizophrenia or manic-depressive disorder. And mates with an alcohol or drug problem before bonding found it much easier to kick the habit without backslides once they truly bonded to a mate.

When Tony had absorbed all this, he came to the inescapable realization that his mate had actually gone somewhere through a puddle of water and there was a violent volcanic eruption there. And this eruption was not anywhere on Earth. At least, thought Tony wryly, not on Earth in the present. The movie buff listed possible ideas for where the puddle had sent his mate.

_Okay, first, least insane idea, another planet. Not to say that idea isn't insane, it just is the most logical and_ least  _insane option. Two, it could have taken him back in time to like Pompeii or something, though the clothes on those ash covered unconscious people did not look like togas and ancient Greek clothes to me, which leads to possibility three. The puddle sends him forward in time to Earth's future and he brings people back to help stop whatever is going to happen and changed those people's past and our future. All of these are whacked out ideas but I really hope it isn't that last one because it sounds really dangerous and ethically iffy. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what I see next time, hopefully more interesting things like this and not him with the sweet little wifey poo. Whichever option it turns out to be or number four, none of the above, whatever it is, it is_ definitely  _incredibly, highly, way beyond my pay grade classified. And I know how to keep my mouth shut._

__

Tony in Ducky's jumpsuit                                                                             Jack O'Neill on Tollana after eruption

 

* * *

 

It is a normal workday at NCIS and Tony is seated at his desk, across from Kate Todd, who is working out well and becoming a good investigator, even if she sometimes still gets too close to a case, and next to Tim McGee, their probationary agent who is a genius at computers, relieving Tony of the burden of that job. Gibbs knows Tony is capable of doing a lot of what McGee does, though not all of the high level hacking, but Tony is nowhere near as swift as the probie. And McGee is so green and occasionally spineless in the face of Gibbs' wrath that allowing him to be the computer go-to-guy on the team gives his self esteem a boost.

Though frankly, sometimes Tony thinks McGee's ego is more than healthy enough. On one of their first cases he warned McGee about poison ivy and was brushed off and the younger agent had ended up with a severe case of poison ivy rash over much of his body, including his dick since he went to the bathroom without washing up from the searching first. But overall, Tony finds McGee to be a good agent. And he is enjoying himself in hazing him lightly. Super glue on the keyboard, salt or soap in the coffee, jokes about his masculinity, his hobbies, his relationship with Abby, Tony feels he is doing well at toughening the young man up.

As Tony starts up his computer, he worries about Kate's date with his frat brother, Steve Adler. He's never known for sure what he might have said to his frat brothers while drunk or on pain killers when he blew out his knee. They've never mentioned anything to him about knowing his mate was a guy or knowing that he swung both ways but then again, everything is supposed to stay in the frat. But Kate's attitude worried Tony. He feared Steve would reveal information that Tony couldn't afford to get out if he wanted to continue where he was, working for a quasi military federal organization. He'd already had problems in that area and was working hard to keep people from harassing McGee the way some people had harassed Tony long ago. But, Tony could do nothing about Kate right now.

Ducky had just called Gibbs down to autopsy, he had said something about the meat puzzle. Maybe they finally had a lead on an ID on the poor guys.  _Now, that is a truly bizarre way to dispose of a body,_ thought Tony.  _But seemingly effective until now._

Tony was checking his email and the inter-office network site for any memos when he felt a naggingly familiar sensation in his arms and legs.  _At least we're not at a crime scene this time_ , he thought gratefully. Tony got to his feet and headed in the direction of the bathroom, turning down a nearby hall once out of the sight of his junior agents. He opened the door of an office supply storeroom and moved to the back corner, shifting several boxes of toner and copy paper to make a walled area he could hide in.

Sometimes Tony missed the mandatory Quiet Rooms that all educational establishments were required by law to provide. Though, the closet that RIMA used when he was there had taught him how to find alternative arrangements to fulfill his need for a private spot to have his visions. The Quiet Rooms at Ohio State were awesome though Tony only used them once, when a vision hit while he was supposed to be in class. He would usually use his bedroom or a bathroom stall if necessary. Since most people supposedly met their soul's mates by their mid-20s, once you were out of school, places of employment were not expected to have a space for visions, unless you worked as a teacher. Tony didn't quite buy into that reasoning considering he knew a number of people who had not met their mates and were older than 27. After all, isn't that one of the things those matchmaking companies provided?

Regardless, Tony had created his little hiding spot here and sank down into it, making sure he couldn't see the door to the storeroom from his spot, meaning someone at the door wouldn't see him. Then Tony settled back against the wall and waited for the vision to commence, hoping it was interesting and maybe would help to explain the weirdness of last year's puddle ring vision.

His eyes focused first on a large hallway with oddly shaped arches that seemed to travel into an indeterminate distance. Then his mate's eyes moved downwards and Tony started freaking out.  _Those things are_ not _human!_ His mate was looking at two gray beings with large heads and skinny limbs and large eyes. They stood at about waist height on his mate and one had a jewel embedded in the palm of his hand and he reached towards his mate and a beam left the jewel and seemingly struck his mate's forehead. There were several other beings coming into the long hallway and watching. Shortly after this his mate was seemingly conversing with the beings and then shook their hands after kneeling down to their height. Before the vision ended, Tony saw his mate looking behind him at another of those rings but without a puddle inside it.

When Tony was back in the storeroom he started hyperventilating.  _Those things – they weren't human. My mate was meeting with aliens, like from Independence Day, like aliens like at Area 51, like – like the aliens that supposedly crashed in Roswell, New Mexico. What did they call them? The conspiracy theorists? Roswell – um – Roswell Grays! My mate has met and made friends with Roswell Grays! I guess this pretty much decides that the puddle ring leads to other planets not somewhere in time. Or, well, I suppose it isn't definitive but still, the evidence is really seeming to weigh the scales in favor of space travel and not time travel. Whoa, this shit is seriously classified and I won't let this out. Abby would freak and she probably has several sites she could send me to with information on this that is from the insane rambling of the radical fringe. Who knew those nutcases were right? The United States Air Force has met with aliens from another planet who have visited us in space ships in the past. Yeah, if I told anyone they would put me right into a padded room of my very own, if the Air Force didn't bury me somewhere deep first. Nope, not going to even think about looking into this, don't want to trip any alarms and end up somewhere I don't want to be._

                   

  Tony DiNozzo and Doctor "Ducky" Mallard in autopsy                                                                  Jack O'Neill on Asgard homeworld Othala

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

As soon as McGee had gone off to ready himself to interrogate the bully, Jason Geckler, Tony excused himself and hurried to the storeroom near the bathrooms off the bullpen. Over the past year, Tony had realized that his suspicions about people needing a space like this were true. Within two weeks of Tony's last vision, the little hideaway he had made with boxes was made more sturdy as some of the shelving units in the back corner were shifted around to hide that corner from view unless actually walking back there. And a few months after that, a bunch of pillows had shown up on the shelving unit closest to the corner. And then a several rolled up soft floor mats were leaned against the wall behind the shelves where the private corner was. Tony knew that others had discovered this spot to have visions in and had brought things to make it more comfortable for themselves and the others who had obviously been before them.

And no one knew who any of the others were. For all Tony knew, his entire team could have been coming here to have visions. No one questioned when Gibbs disappeared for ten or fifteen minutes as long as he had a coffee cup when he returned, and Tony knew that when McGee wasn't around, he figured he was helping Abby in her lab. And Kate was always – had always been such a goody-two-shoes that you never thought she was up to anything odd if her desk was empty. It had just been assumed that she was in the restroom or running an errand for Gibbs.

_Man, even after all of these months, I still expect to see her when I look up from my desk across the bullpen. I know she's dead, but it's so hard to see Ziva sitting there. Sometimes, I wish Gibbs had held his ground about not letting anyone sit at that desk. And Ziva looks so much like Kate, just when you catch her from the corner of your eye and aren't thinking about it. The dark hair, the medium build, the height, none of it exactly the same but just enough to get thrown off now and again. Of course, their personalities aren't alike at all. Ziva is so hard, so outwardly tough and manipulative, the ultimate ninja chick. Kate was softer, not soft, but in comparison. Kate was tough in her way but sometimes she was so naive. But both of them can't seem to see that I'm not only the mask I wear. And with Ziva, that is confusing, because I know she created dossiers about the team for her brother._

_I still don't really trust her. Her presence on the team makes absolutely no sense. Ziva is Mossad, a spy and an assassin. She has no investigative background or skills. And why would Mossad want her on the Major Case Response Team of a fairly small, unknown federal agency. As a liaison, she would be of much more use at Homeland Security, the NSA, CIA, or even the FBI Anti-Terrorist Unit. Her skills and contacts would fit so much better there. Not here with us. And Gibbs gave in to her presence on the team way too easily._

_I don't know how much of that is his former love affair with Madam Director and how much is the “secret” he and Ziva share about Ari's death. I'm an investigator and it was completely obvious how the scene in Gibbs' basement went down. There is no way Ari could have been shot by Gibbs, not with those angles and trajectories. Ziva killed him. Her own brother. And Gibbs lied to protect her from fallout with Mossad. The only problem being Mossad had to know Ari was rogue and off the grid. His actions were so far beyond the actions a mole would take to keep his cover. The missile, I could understand though that was way too close, but Kate's death served no purpose except to hurt Gibbs. He thinks we don't know why Kate's death and Ari's attempt on Abby that I stopped were so exceptionally hurtful for him. And I grant you that McGee most likely has no idea. And I doubt Abby could keep it quiet if she was aware. But I know Ziva knows. Ari knew which is why he targeted the women in the first place, therefore, since Ziva was his handler and prepared the dossiers, she knows, too. And Ari knew what buttons to push to get Gibbs attention and I bet Ziva pushed the same buttons in her way. Another reason for the swift acceptance by Gibbs for the Mossad liaison. He sees her as a surrogate daughter, like he sees Abby and saw Kate._

_Gibbs is so smart but he has some huge blind spots. His family being one of them. It isn't exactly a deeply buried secret. It was big news at the time, all over the papers, the wife and daughter of a serving Marine killed in a car crash by a drug dealer who she saw kill someone and was going to testify about, killed while in protective custody. I didn't have to dig very hard to find the information after Gibbs offered me a job. And he should have known I wasn't about to just trust my instincts after learning Danny was dirty. I had had no idea about that and he had been taking bribes since before I transferred to Baltimore. So, I did background research on Gibbs. Just some basic internet searches and a bit of asking around with my contacts. I'm betting the only reason Abby and Ducky (though I'm not sure about him) don't know is that they didn't know Gibbs then. By the time he was out of the Marines and working here, it was old news. And Abby was still in New Orleans and a kid then, anyway._

_But, I let Gibbs have his privacy. We all have secrets in out lives and I have no desire to air Gibbs' pain and loss for the world to know. I know Director Morrow knew. He was the director who hired Gibbs and he was here when Gibbs' family was killed along with Morrow's agent. If I wanted to, I could easily trigger different things in Gibbs just by playing off of this information. And I bet that is part of what Ziva did. I mean, her father would never win father of the year with how he treated his kids, especially Ari. I hate the bastard, don't get me wrong, I'd have killed him if I had the chance, but he was what his father created. And Gibbs would want to protect the young girl from that environment, though I suspect any chance to truly help her was gone ages ago._

_I don't trust her. And she is manipulating the entire team, constantly. Gibbs sees her as a daughter who needs protecting, McGee is falling under her sway, the hot super heroine chick, smart and lethal, even Abby who was cool at first is starting to let Ziva play her._

_We used to be so close, Abby and I, maybe not best friends, out tastes are too different, but good friends, I thought. And then she betrayed me and almost got me killed. And she doesn't even realize. For such a smart woman, Abby is incredibly unworldly and innocent about things. I found a legitimate picture of Kate when she was in college on the wall of a bar for anyone to see and took a photo of it. When Kate pushed too hard with the information Steve had given her, I revealed my possession of the photo and threatened to show people. It would have gotten her some teasing and maybe some propositions. It would have mostly gone away within a month or so._

_And I was terrified about what else she could get Steve to tell her about me. I had been sure he wouldn't tell anything and I was wrong. And I let other frat brothers know, too. He's been shunned a lot since then. You don't betray the frat oath, especially not for some fairly random piece of tail. Steve didn't even come to her funeral. They certainly weren't mates. But he told her things that he should have kept to himself. He doesn't even blame me, after hearing what she did in retaliation to the picture I had of her._

_Kate went to Abby and together they faked up a picture of a gay couple in a fairly provocative pose and put my head on the submissive partner. They used government computers and programs to do it. And Kate then sent it to herself from Abby's computer to her own over the internal network. Kate then threatened to show the picture to people if I didn't delete the one of her. Of course, by then it was too late and the attachment had drawn the attention of cyber security and some guys who didn't know it was faked decided to show me with their fists how much they didn't appreciate a queer working as an agent. For a solid two months, I got beat down regularly. It only ended when I managed to sleep with one of the secretaries from the administrative department. She wasn't interested in more than a few good times in bed and she was happy to tell everyone how skilled I was in that respect. And then I had to go through it again by different guys with the same attitude when they cleared off Kate's computer after she died but I nipped that in the bud after only a few days when I made sure to be reminiscing with Abby about Kate and the “revenge” she had helped her get with that faked photo of me in leather with another guy. Abby didn't realize we were overheard and that her admission of the faked nature of the photo saved me a lot of bruises and possible broken bones._

__

Faked photo of Tony DiNozzo by Abby Sciuto and Kate Todd

_I don't hate Kate, though. I miss her. She really had started to see a different me after I got the plague. She stayed with me through that entire ordeal even though it could have killed her. She was changing and I think, if she had survived, we might have actually become friends. Friends who tease each other mercilessly but I think she would have eased up on the below the belt hits she was so fond of, like the Commander Voss kiss. She never seemed to grasp the fact that I wasn't homophobic. That it wasn't that Amanda Reed had been a guy or rather that she was a per-operative transsexual, but rather that she had brutally murdered a good friend of mine and ripped his guts out. I had been making out with the person who killed someone I cared about. But all Kate saw was that I had “tongued a guy”. Frankly she was the one who was homophobic and a total prude, proven again by that photo she faked. A gay photo, not just an embarrassing one, but a gay one. I wish Kate had lived but she could be a real bitch. But she was growing and I can appreciate insecurity leading to bad decisions and I think Kate was never really comfortable with her place on the team especially after being so summarily kicked out of the Secret Service for one mistake as she was._

_But regardless of how snarky Kate could be, Ziva is worse. Ziva doesn't just aim for below the belt with a jab, she takes a knife to you balls, cuts them off, stabs you in the stomach and guts you and then stabs you in the back with it on top of everything else just to make sure you get the point. Every time I try to open up to her in any way, she uses it against me. Like last week when I found out that she had a “team dinner” but neglected to tell me about it until the next day after she was certain I learned from everyone that I had been excluded. Palmer, McGee, Abby, even Gibbs went to the team building exercise. It really brought home to me how separate I am now. I tried to blame it on Kate's death and Ziva's manipulations and divisive behavior but frankly it started, slowly I'll grant, but it began with Kate's arrival on the team not her departure. When it wasn't just Gibbs and I anymore. When he started seeing her as a daughter figure and wanting to help her one up me, her superior agent._

_When my furnace broke down and I needed a place to stay and no one would let me have a room. Kate even took home an amnesiac crime victim who had been buried alive in a shallow grave and dug herself out but without any memories, just so that she wouldn't have a guest room free. She even openly admitted it. And as a proof to how bad a profiler Kate was and how she let herself get too involved and emotionally invested sometimes, our “victim” regained her memory and blew herself and her former lover up, nearly taking the team with them. Ducky said no to me and Gibbs turned me down the first few times I asked or hinted before feeling sorry for me after the explosion and letting me stay._

_And now with Ziva it is worse. They exclude me and don't even think about how I'm missing from a team dinner. I suppose I'm just naive. I keep trying to find that sense of family and belonging that I've never had, that my mate could provide, and getting kicked in the gut when I'm wrong._

Tony sighed and settled back against the wall. He was so tired of not having anyone truly on his side. He rested his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes as the pains stopped and he found himself transported to the middle of a firefight. His mate was shooting some kind of electric laser gun and dodging strikes from a energy pulse weapon.

Tony had done his research on the matter. Okay, so he had watched a lot of science fiction movies, science fiction television shows and read some science fiction novels. It was the best he could do without drawing attention to any digging into the actual program his mate was involved in.

He saw as his mate and the party he was with start running towards the metal ring, which here was set into a wall of rock. As in, the only thing seen in the middle was the rock it was in. Tony thought it was weird but what did he know. He only knew that he saw one of his mate's companions hit by a weapon and his mate and another pick him up and drag him towards the puddle as they were fired on from some type of aircraft. As his mate reached the puddle, the vision blurred and Tony next saw a few seconds of an underground room and a ramp before he saw the storeroom shelves once more.

_I guess all isn't well in the galaxy. We make friends like the Roswell Grays and we make enemies like these guys with their energy shooters and hover craft or something. People are the same no matter what planet or species I suppose. You have good guys and bad guys, us versus them. That never changes._

        

Tony DiNozzo with witnesses                                           Jack O'Neill, Teal'c and Nyan run for the gate on Bedrosia


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Tony sat on the sofa in his apartment, angry that his vision was going to make him late for his “date” with Jeanne Benoit. It couldn't be helped and he could always use the excuse of traffic because he would only be twenty or so minutes later than he had planned, assuming Murphy's Law didn't appear and he didn't _actually_ hit bad traffic.

As he waited for the pain to end and the vision to begin, Tony realized that tonight's date may have been the last one if Jenny had gotten her way. McGee had said she was practically vibrating with the need to tell Ziva to take the shot and kill the ridiculously named “La Grenouille”, otherwise known as Rene Benoit, Tony's “girlfriend's” father. If Ziva had taken that shot and killed the arms dealer, Tony's undercover assignment would be over and he would no longer be getting whored out by the director of a federal agency. He knew that both Gibbs and Ziva said that they had used sex as a valid interrogation technique in the past but Tony really wasn't made like that. Sure, Tony slept around plenty but only with people who knew the score, who weren't looking for ever after but just some fun and pleasure right now.

Jeanne was looking for someone to be with her for always. She and her soul's mate had met when they were children and the initial bond had occurred shortly after Jeanne had hit puberty and run into her mate who was a year older and attended the same school. They never moved past a platonic bond and into a sexual one, which would lock in the bonding on all levels because her mate died from leukemia when he was 14, just two years after Jeanne hit puberty. Because they had bonded with the initial bond, her mate would not be re-born until both of them had completed this life's cycle and he had made her promise that she wouldn't cut her life short to hurry that process along. But they had not had a sexual bond which meant that Jeanne could still find pleasure in sex, just not the completion she would have had with her mate. She could enjoy it but not truly orgasm, just feel quite good. She wanted a companion who would be with her and love her and occasionally sleep with her but who would never leave her for a mate.

Enter Tony DiNardo, a college professor of film studies whose mate had been killed in a car accident the day they met at age 19. Professor DiNardo's and his mate had been on the way to her apartment to complete the bond when they were struck head on by a drunk driver. He could still have sex and get hard but he felt no overwhelming need to and though he could orgasm, his ejaculate held no sperm. Tony DiNozzo found this incredibly difficult to deal with. He knew that his sperm was perfectly normal but the woman he was sleeping with at his boss' boss' direction thought differently. Tony had tried his best to avoid sleeping with Jeanne but she had wanted to at least sometimes and Jenny had made it clear that he needed to do whatever he needed to do in order to keep Jeanne Benoit happy so they could get to her father, the international arms dealer who called himself “The Frog”.

Tony "DiNardo" and Jeanne Benoit

Basically, his ultimate boss in the agency was pimping him out. Tony hated it, especially since he found Jeanne incredibly lovable and was falling hard for her. She had nothing to do with her father's business and Tony was sure she didn't even know how he made all of his money. Tony felt very guilty in what he was doing to the beautiful doctor but if he wanted to keep his job, he had no choice. That had been made painfully clear to him.

Though at times lately, Tony was questioning why he wanted to stay at his job so much. It had been almost a year since Gibbs had gotten himself blown up and gotten amnesia, forgetting almost his entire time at NCIS. He didn't remember Ducky or Abby, had vague memories of Jenny, and mostly had forgotten Tony, McGee, and Ziva, until Tony sent Ziva to sneak into the hospital and try to jog his memory which had worked enough to get the information he knew about he terrorist they were chasing. Unfortunately, the higher ups had let a ship load of sailors die to stave off any possible public panic over a terrorist attack. And Gibbs, still reeling from the explosion which made the memory of his dead family fresh and new, and with tractor trailer sized holes in his memory of things since that time, got fed up and followed his mentor's lead and handed his badge, gun, and team to Tony to lead, haring off to retirement in Mexico.

Tony was left trying to lead a team that was in shock and totally off kilter. In their little dysfunctional family, the father had abandoned them and the older brother, the joker was now supposed to fill his shoes. None of them had wanted this, certainly not in this abrupt fashion. Tony was left to hold the team together and lead them, while comforting a shocked and crying Goth lab tech and listen to the anger from the loquacious medical examiner. Tony was there for everyone else, but no one had been there for him. He was alone in his grief and anger and sense of abandonment.

And his team had not helped at all. They resented having to take orders from him and never gave him the effort that they had put in for Gibbs. They came in late, left early, took very long lunches, questioned nearly every order, did half-assed jobs on the orders they did obey, and turned in shoddy and incomplete paperwork. Tony found himself at work until midnight many nights trying to get things done so the cases got solved, something he often seemed to do almost entirely on his own. And when he would visit Abby, she would slap a “Trainee” sticker on his chest and moon over her shrine of Gibbs photos all over the lab. Down in autopsy and in the field, Ducky constantly called him Jethro before correcting himself, something Tony found infuriating since everyone else was constantly telling him, “You're not Gibbs!” whenever he tried to keep things the same and “You're not better than Gibbs!” whenever he tried to change something and do it his way. He felt that he couldn't win. And then Director Shepard began getting him involved in her operations of surveillance on Rene Benoit and leading him towards Jeanne, implying she knew all about her father's business. By the end of the four months that Gibbs was in Mexico, Tony was working 24 hour days, being the team lead, acting as a senior field agent (since McGee didn't stick around long enough to get the work done), and on an undercover op for the director.

Then Ziva got into trouble and framed for a murder by the Iranians, it turned out and rather than coming to her team lead who had been there the last four months and had had her back for over a year before that, she called the amnesiac old man back from pickling his liver in Mexico. And he came back. And Tony was sort of glad, though he resented that Ziva did not come to him – until Gibbs solved everything and disappeared back to Mexico without a word. Only to come back not long later when a falsely convicted escapee had seemed to threaten Agent Tobias Fornell's young daughter. And then, Gibbs decided he wanted his job back and Tony discovered along with everyone else that Jenny had never filed his retirement paperwork, she had just put him on leave, using up his medical and vacation time. And Gibbs promptly took his desk back, no call or heads up for the agent who had kept the team from imploding in his absence, Gibbs simply lived up to his self-confessed billing of “second B is for bastard” and cleared off his old desk of Tony's things and dumped them on Tony's old desk for everyone to see when they got in.

Tony truly hated him in those first few minutes. He felt completely worthless. He never got a thank you from Gibbs for his work, just a smug grin and sly smirks from the rest of his team, overjoyed to have the boss back at work and Tony put firmly in his place. Tony's hurt then and over the next few months as Gibbs turned the bastardy to Tony into an art form, found him turning more and more to Jeanne, who became his solace and rock, though she didn't know it or understand it. Tony knew it was a bad idea but he needed a connection, and what he had once had at NCIS was increasingly absent, so he sought it elsewhere and with his work schedule, the only option was his undercover mark.

And now, Tony waited for another vision showing him how important his mate was and how less than a bug Tony was in comparison to the things his mate was doing. He stared across the room at his piano and waited as the pains ended.

Tony saw his mate walking slowly through an apartment, looking around. He approached a balcony door which was ajar and eased it open. Beyond the balcony, Tony saw a man standing on the outside of the protective wall surrounding the balcony. Apparently, though of course Tony heard nothing, his mate said something as the seemingly suicidal man turned his head and his mouth moved, a dead look on his face. After several minutes of trying to talk the man down, Tony supposed, his mate moved forward and helped the man back over the railing and embraced him, rubbing his back soothingly. Tony thought he recognized the man from some of the previous visions and supposed he worked with his mate going through the puddle ring. As Tony's mate helped his friend back inside the apartment, the vision ended and Tony found himself back inside his own apartment, wishing desperately that he had someone in his life who would pull him back from the edge like his mate just had for his teammate. _The sad thing is_ , thought Tony, _the one most likely to help me is the woman I have done nothing but lie to during our entire relationship. I certainly wouldn't trust my team to pull me back from the edge of the abyss. I think some of them would give me a shove to help me over it, instead, whether purposefully like Ziva and Gibbs, or accidentally like Abby or Ducky. I'm not sure which category McGee falls into, sometimes it is the former, sometimes the latter. It depends on the day and his mood, I suppose._

                           

Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David watch Ducky and "The Frog"                                                              Jack O'Neill saves Daniel Jackson


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Tony stood abruptly from the uncomfortable folding chair positioned next to the cameras that were looking out over the street below and the area across the street. He was in the middle of a stakeout, on his own at the present moment in the little office and he was going to have a vision before his replacement arrived to spell him. While not exactly a worst case scenario, which Tony supposed would be to fall into a vision in the middle of a fire fight or when alone with a suspect, Tony felt this was up there on the list. The damn vision was going to interfere with his job and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it or push it off or delay it in any way. The best thing he could do was to make sure all of the surveillance equipment was in proper working order and recording correctly and hope with his miniscule optimistic side that nothing would go down while he was mentally absent, spending time with his mate across the country, or knowing his mate, more likely across the galaxy. _Or hell, I don't know how far those puddle rings take him, he could be in another universe for all I know._

When Tony was finished checking all of the cameras and computers, he sat down in the corner with his back to the wall and waited, knowing it wouldn't be long now. And he was right. Within a minute of taking his seat, he was elsewhere. Tony's mate was on a high ridge over looking a valley where Tony could see the empty puddle ring in the distance. What shocked Tony, he would have said speechless if he was ever capable of speech in this state, was what lay around the ring. There were hundreds, no thousands of dead bodies in strange armor lying on the ground where they had fallen. As his mate raised a pair of field glasses to his face, Tony saw close-ups. None of the bodies were even twitching, none of the chests was rising and falling as an unconscious person took in air, those with open eyes were blankly staring into the distance. Every person below was dead. As his mate scanned the field of carnage, Tony wished he could shut his eyes. There were no wounds, no obvious signs of what killed these men, and Tony noticed almost incidentally that all of these soldiers _were_ men, there were no dead bodies of women lying down below. The ground around them wasn't exploded as if a bomb had been dropped, there was no surface damage except in the far distance, from what Tony could see.

The investigator in Tony couldn't stop from analyzing the evidence. None of the bodies look like they were running from something, whatever happened, it happened quick, possibly nearly instantaneously to all of them. Most of them are fallen in a way that looks like when they were standing they were in some type of military formation, ready to march somewhere. All except one group. And as his mate's eyes fell upon that group, they stopped and stayed staring at it, taking in the fallen armored men surrounding a single bound man with obvious injuries, the man's clothing setting him apart from all of the other dead bodies below. He wore a United States military uniform, or an Earth uniform, Tony supposed. And he looked so young. _Not even as old as McGee,_ thought Tony sorrowfully, _and we sent him to some far off planet to die surrounded by thousands of seeming enemies._ Tony wished he could cry, he felt sick at the carnage and waste of life. Never before had he seen such a thing.

And as his vision faded with his mate staring at the Earth soldier, Tony fell forward onto his knees and began heaving, uncontrollably, his last several meals making violent reappearances, his body shaking as tears streamed down his face. Unlike the last time he had such a reaction to a vision, Tony hadn't even thought about getting to a receptacle and the floor in front of him and the clothes on the lower half of his body were splattered in vomit.

When he finally got control of himself, he felt a hand with a wet washcloth on the back of his neck. He looked up and his boss was looking down at him with concern. “Ya alright, DiNozzo?”

Tony nodded. “Will be, boss. Let me go get cleaned up and I'll clean up this mess.”

Gibbs shook his head. “You hit the head and fix yourself up. I'll handle this in here.”

“Boss - “

Gibbs pointed to the bathroom door. “Go. We'll talk about what happened here later.”

– - – - – -

Later, when the op was over and the case had been solved Gibbs took Tony to his house and made them a couple of cowboy steaks in his fireplace. Gibbs poured him a glass of his signature rotgut bourbon and Tony downed it swiftly, both to try to avoid tasting it and also to get himself drunk and try to forget the horror within his vision. Gibbs seemed to understand what Tony needed and let him drink several glasses in a row until he lowered them, tears dripping slowly down his face.

Gibbs looked at him with compassion, an unusual sight for Tony to see aimed at him and not a victim, and simply asked, “What happened?” Gibbs had already told him that he had tried to get Tony on the phone and when he didn't answer for several minutes had come up to the room and found him in the middle of a vision.

Tony sighed deeply and began talking, almost free associating, not censoring anything except the contents of his visions. Even in his heavily drunken state he refused to betray that information even to his boss. Tony rambles on about how his mate is a man and in the military and he goes on some seriously classified missions and Tony has seen some really horrible things that have happened to his mate and that his mate has done and that his mate has seen and that sometimes it is all too much. And today's vision, Tony tells Gibbs he won't give him details because when he says classified he means deeply classified like beyond James Bond classified, or MTAC classified, more like President's eyes only classified but that there was some serious horrific carnage and Tony had never seen something like that in person or like, okay so he wasn't actually there but in a vision it feels sort of like you are and it is way different then seeing something in a movie that you know is fake or even documentary footage on a television screen or footage of live action missions on the screen in MTAC.

And Tony continues on that he knows some of them had wondered if Jeanne had been his mate and if that was part of the problem and that she would be back and they would get together but he reveals that Jeanne's mate died when they were teenagers but that he really loved her and that he thought maybe he could be happy with her and live a good life and his mate was in the military and maybe homophobic and Tony didn't like getting beaten for being gay and being a gay cop was bad and being a gay federal agent was bad and being a gay soldier wasn't good either and Tony just wanted to have a happy family like his mate had, his mate was married and had a wife and a son and they were so happy, Tony had seen it, they played catch and went to county fairs and his mate watched his son win baseball games and he really liked making out and having sex with his wife and Tony thought that maybe Jeanne could be that for him but he realized it was all a lie even though he had known that but he realized that Jeanne's feelings were a lie, too and that she loved Professor Tony DiNardo whose soul's mate had died the day they met, which was Jenny's contribution to his cover, and she didn't really know and so couldn't have any feeling except hate and betrayal for Agent Tony DiNozzo whose soul's mate was alive and a man who had no interest in Tony and no one ever wanted to stay with him, like Wendy and he was great for a good lay and that's why the director made him sleep with Jeanne if he wanted to keep his job and keep the team together but he wasn't any good for the long term. They just knew he was no good, just like his father had told him.

Gibbs let Tony ramble on until he just trailed to a stop and then helped him to the guest room, placing a glass of water and some aspirin on the night table and a waste can on the floor next to the bed. He covered him up and made sure he was on his stomach and left the room, leaving the door ajar, “My door'll be open, too, DiNozzo, just sleep it all off.”

And Tony lay there in the dark, thankful that his boss cared at least enough to get him functioning again but then, Tony knew that was all that it was. If he was distracted by his vision, he wouldn't be as good of an agent, so Gibbs let him work it out.  

    

Tony in surveillance room on stakeout                               Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter, Daniel Jackson and Jacob Carter/Selmac on Revanna


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Stargate: SG1 or NCIS or any of their characters, I am just playing in their playgrounds. I do own the soul mate concept I developed here and the story I wrote but I make no money from this story.

Tony stood at the back of the aircraft carrier, looking out over the ocean as the ship moved swiftly, leaving a large churned up wake of waves as it passed by. He felt like that ocean sometimes. His life had been on an even keel, not perfect, an occasional storm would pass through quickly, there was a lot unseen underneath but the surface was calm and placid. Then a huge carrier passes through, churning up what had been safe beneath and leaving waves behind that disturb the calm for too long.

Tony DiNozzo unhappy on carrier

Going with the metaphor, Tony supposed the carrier that passed through his life in this situation was Jenny's death or maybe the new director Leon Vance. Tony had been happy enough with his place as Senior Field Agent of Gibbs' MCRT. True, there had been plenty of issues under the surface of his relationships with everyone on the team but everything was going on as always, no one needed to know what was going on in Tony's head. Then Jenny had to go to Los Angeles for that damned funeral for her old handler and chose Tony and Ziva as her security detail. Why she chose them, Tony still wasn't sure. It wasn't exactly in their job description. And Jenny had had a regular detail of security agents. But choose them she had and then had made it clear she didn't want them following her. Tony had agreed to her orders because he knew from the look in her eye (which he had recognized from his time undercover with her as his handler with the Benoits) that something was up and he didn't want to get dragged into her personal mess again.

But of course, with Tony's luck, she went off to her death and he wasn't there to save her from her suicidal impulses. Tony could understand wanting to go out with guns blazing instead of in increasing pain in a hospital bed (as would have been the case as Ducky had told them since Jenny's death) but she had given no thought to the guilt that Tony and Ziva would lay on themselves for her loss or that others would lay on them to punish them for following her orders. Tony wryly thought that he was better off not following her orders than when he did, director or not. He had learned the true personal hell that followed the Nuremberg defense, “I was just following orders!”

And so, he followed orders and Jenny was dead, alone, just the latest in the string of losses that Tony had to deal with. His mother, his father though in a different way, Wendy, his thoughts of a pro career in professional ball, his job in Peoria and with it his faith in honest cops, his job and friends in Philly, Danny and his automatic trust in partners to have his back and not be focused only on their own agenda, Wendy again and he still didn't know why, Kate shot by a sniper to hurt Gibbs, Paula Cassidy who gave her life to save him and others after the loss of her team which should have been the MCRT, Jeanne who had been so hurt she tried to get him arrested for murder, the trust of his team, Jenny, and now the actual physical presence of his team or the rest of his life in DC. And of course, throughout it all, the ultimate absence and loss – that of his soul's mate.

Tony had been handling the rejection of his mate, knowing he was doing important work and was happy with his perfect little family. Until just after Jenny's funeral when Tony had a vision while mothballing his apartment for a long term absence and packing to go to his new position as agent afloat. His mate had been at home, a different house from what Tony had seen before and he was alone, watching hockey on television and drinking beer. Tony didn't think anything of it, assuming his family were just out, at work, at school, running errands, whatever, but then he saw his mate's left hand when he picked up his beer bottle. It was bare. His mate was no longer married. And he still hadn't come for Tony. This fact piled upon Jenny's death and the loss of Tony's position in DC and the heap of blame he and others were burying him in caused the death of Tony's remaining sliver of optimism.

And that death became more final by the day as Tony was stuck on this carrier, alone among thousands of sailors who resented his presence and essentially saw him as a narc, his only contact with his old team, the occasional post card from Abby. As the days passed, Tony held out no hope that he would return to his old job. Director Vance hated him and blamed him solely for Jenny Shepard's death. And he knew that Gibbs agreed that Tony was to blame for his former lover's lonely demise.

Tony held back tears, his gaze long into the distance over the ocean, as his mind dwelt upon the fact that once upon a time he had seen Gibbs as almost a father to him but just like his real father, Gibbs disappointed him. The team had been his family but they, too, were just co-workers, now. And even that wasn't true anymore. Gibbs had a new team and still ran the MCRT with Ducky in autopsy and Abby in the forensics lab, McGee had taken over as head of the cyber crimes division of NCIS in the basement of the DC building, Ziva was back in Israel or wherever Mossad had sent her, Kate was buried in the ground in Indiana, and Tony was on the carrier as he had been for months now.

Tony knew that he had ignored or pushed away a lot of the hurts his team had caused him over the years, locking them into a box in his heart and refusing to deal with them but his distance and time on the carrier was forcing them out of that box and into his mind almost constantly. The lack of respect that the junior agents on the team constantly showed him. Gibbs giving them rules to follow but constantly breaking them himself like when he went off alone with Maddie Tyler and nearly got the both of them killed and didn't even bother a nod of gratitude to Tony for saving them and getting walking pneumonia in the process thanks to his damaged lungs from the plague. And the only one who knew he had gotten so ill from that dip in the Anacostia River was Dr. Brad Pitt who he had gone to see when his chest began to hurt the night after the incident. No one else, not even Ducky his regular medical doctor, had bothered to check up on him. And how depressing was it that the two doctors he saw on a regular basis for his medical needs were an infectious disease specialist and a freaking medical examiner!

And the way his team treated him when they were on that ghost ship, searching for a possible bio-weapon and he freaked out because he actually had nearly died from one. And his loving team had taunted him and sent him to collect the dead rats and Gibbs had actually told him it was fine if he died as long as he did it quietly. It had hurt so badly to hear that from him, his mentor, his friend, his surrogate father.

Then, of course, there was the way his team treated him when they had thought that he had blown up with his car, thanks to the damn CIA. Kate's desk had remained inviolate for months after her death but the vultures that he worked with had stripped his within hours of things of his that they had coveted. And when they had found out that he was alive – they simply resented him for not telling them he was undercover and for lying to them for nearly a year.

Or often rising to the surface of his thoughts was Mike Franks. Gibbs trusted Franks so much and put him on a pedestal. Gibbs let him get away with knocking Tony unconscious, giving him a concussion when all Tony was trying to do was protect the damned man. All so Franks could murder Arkady Kobach in cold blood. Tony knew it. And so did Gibbs. But he never called his old mentor on any of it. Franks could do no wrong. But then, Tony suspected Franks wasn't a stranger to vigilante justice. He couldn't prove it but he was pretty sure Franks had set Gibbs, the grieving father and widower, loose on the drug dealer who had killed Shannon and Kelly. Ducky said it at the time when he first learned of their existences and deaths, he repeated it to several of them over the time when Gibbs was in a coma, that the reason no one had found the man was that Jethro had killed him. And the only way he could have found out the information about who was responsible and how to find him, was Mike Franks, the lead agent on the case.

And of course his nightmares bring up his time undercover chained to what he had thought was a white collar smuggler of Iraqi artifacts who turned out to be a serial killer. One who had drugged him and Tony suspected, though he never reported it, raped him. He hadn't wanted to deal with it at the time and no one on his team pushed him to get a full medical exam so he couldn't be sure but he had found evidence in his clothes that pointed to something happening after he passed out from the doctored whiskey he had been forced to drink to protect his cover. It always came up in his nightmares every so often, shadowy possible memories of hands and lips and touches. And with so much time with nothing to do but think and none of his usual distractions, like sex or movies or hard work, available to him, the incident and others refused to stay buried in his nightmares but insisted on visiting his conscious mind.

Things like Jeffrey White and his fixation on Tony while they were on the run together, waking up in the sewer locked in with a corpse and a dying Marine named Atlas, being in a blue room unable to breathe and coughing up blood while worried that he was going to infect and kill his teammate, standing with his mother's corpse and wondering what to do, being beaten unconscious by his father, not being able to save the people he cared about like Kate, Paula, Jenny, his mom, his mate, watching his mate be raped and abused and unable to even look away.

Tony knew he was starting to drown in his depression and had taken to coming here and watching the ocean most afternoons, knowing that one of these days he would get overwhelmed and give up and dive off of the side to drown in the ocean and end his torment. It was coming, Tony knew it and frankly had given up on trying to fight his was up from the deep hole he was in, emotionally and mentally. He was alone and so lonely, he just didn't want to get up in the mornings. And one day, he would gather his resolve and put everyone out of their misery of having to endure his presence and give them the ultimate gift – his death.

As Tony stood there wondering if today would be that day, he heard a call for the Agent Afloat to report to the captain. He smiled at the water and murmured under his breath as he turned around, “Not today, sorry,” to the ocean.

     

Tony told he's going afloat just hours after seeing:                 Jack O'Neill at home without a wedding ring

 

– - – - – -

 

Tony was in the elevator at NCIS headquarters on his way up to the director's office to see Director Vance. He had no idea why he was just given new orders when he had reported to the captain and caught a COD to a base in the Middle East and then a priority ride to DC. Tony didn't hold any hope that he was returning to his old job. He suspected he was being reassigned to either another ship or a worse posting, maybe Alaska or maybe Vance had finally decided to go the whole nine yards and fire him. Tony didn't know and it worried him during his entire trip, and now he was close to getting an answer and was almost hyperventilating in the elevator. He got himself under control and wondered if he would even get to see anyone he knew while he was here.

The elevator doors opened and Tony stepped out and moved to pass a man in Air Force dress blues and glanced up at him and as soon as their eyes met, Tony's soul felt whole and his emotions began to balance out and he could feel his broken heart mending as golden lights swirled around the man before him on the mezzanine. And a single word slipped from his mouth, heard in stereo sound from the other's lips as well, “Mate.”

Tony's first sight of Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is all folks. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this journey. And yes, I am planning a sequel which I won't write until at least late spring. Please don't bug me about it. I got this posted quicker than I thought thanks to the snow day, so thank you Mother Nature. And thanks again to my beta singer-s-lament and the first cover art on chapter one by Fanarts_series. You are both awesome! And thank you to Keira Marcos for her hard work running Rough Trade.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all my readers. 
> 
> Update 1/1/16: I am in the process of writing the sequel to this story. I DO NOT POST until my work is complete and beta'ed (except on EAD). The sequel should be up sometime between April 2016 and August 2016. **STOP BUGGING ME ABOUT IT!!!!!** I'm glad you like this story and want more but the nudging and poking me makes me less want to write. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Update 6/11/2016: I am finished writing the sequel, it is with my beta and should be posted by the beginning of August 2016. If you would like a snippet until then, there is one posted on my Wordpress: https://penumbriafic.wordpress.com/wips-info/evil-author-day/2016-ncis-sg1-sequel/ 
> 
> I will also be posting other fics in this same soulmate universe, starting with a Kingsman one this summer (2016), so keep an eye out for them.
> 
> Update 8/8/16: The sequel is posted.


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